The Accidental Husband
by heavenhelpmyheart
Summary: When fashion critic Kurt Hummel destroys one of the fashion lines on his desk and shames the designer out of the country, his jilted ex sets about getting his revenge. Based on a movie of the same title. Hevans and Seblaine, eventual Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: THIS STORY GOBBLED UP MY BRAIN AND COMPLETELY OVERTOOK IT! IT IS THE REASON I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO GET ANYTHING DONE FOR A WEEK! Ahem. I apologize to anyone reading this story that reads me normally, because this is the reason they've been waiting for fic updates. For anyone reading me for the first time, my author's notes have a lot of caps. I apologize.**

**This story is based on the movie** _The Accidental Husband_**, because I was watching it and Klaine popped into my head. This is mainly Klaine with Kurt/Sam and Blaine/Sebastian being the minor couples (it makes sense, I swear). This story is also already mostly written, because it stole my head. Therefore, new chapters of about 5,000 words will be up every 2-3 days. I have at least 6 chapters for you guys already.**

**Rated M for sex-mentions and implied sex and eventual sex. All of the man-on-man variety. Don't like... what the fuck are you doing here? Go hide your dumbass homophobic head in some quicksand. Oh, and bad language too. Underage peoples, GO AWAY!  
><strong>

**I don't own** _Glee_, **or** _The Accidental Husband_.

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><p>Kurt Hummel smirked to himself in the privacy of his office as he made red marks on one of the most hideous dresses he had ever laid eyes on. He would remember each mark as a comment to be made in his review. Honestly, he did not understand why some people insisted on creating designs when they have no talent for it whatsoever.<p>

"Kurt, my dear, are you done taking the fashion world by storm? Your soon-to-be hubby is on line one!" Charlie announced, and Kurt sighed. Charlie was the absolutely loveable best friend he'd never had in an assistant, but sometimes his eternal optimism and childish ways of irritating people rubbed Kurt the wrong way, so to speak.

"Do me a favor and tell him I have a horribly feathered high-low dress with more colors than all the birds of the Amazon in one square inch of fabric to tear apart, and I'll call him back in ten?" Technically, Kurt was Charlie's boss and he could choose to treat his assistant however he so chose, but nicely-treated employees worked overtime for free.

"And that you love him?" Charlie asked.

"Of course." There would never be a day that Kurt wasn't in love with Sam Evans. Though the greasy mechanic type wasn't exactly who he had pictured himself falling in love with, partly due to the fact that he grew up with a mechanic as a father and partly due to the fact that he was himself a high-fashion critic, the dorky charms and dirty blonde hair of his fiancé never failed to set his heart fluttering.

"Will do," his assistant called back. "Oh, and there's some new designs in for you from a small company called Smythe. Probably some newbies hoping to get a good review and kick-start their careers."

"How do you think that will work out for them?" Out of all the fashion opinions on the earth, he trusted Charlie's the most (besides his own, of course). Charlie was well-versed in the trends of the time. As if he would hire someone who was bubble-brained and clueless.

"Haven't looked. Want me to give them a one-over or just drop them in The Pile?" Kurt grimaced at the mention of The Pile, their office codename for the endless stack of: letters he had to respond to, counter-critics he had to reduce to crying balls of mush, clutching in their fingers the dredges of their careers, offers he had to formally turn down, and, of course, fashions he had to either destroy or put on a platinum pedestal. In the world of New York fashion, Kurt Hummel's word was law.

"Drop them in The Pile, on the top. I love looking through new ideas." Despite the rather harsh criticisms of the vitriol dolled out in Kurt's weekly blog, Kurt loved finding new talents to showcase. He didn't _look_ to ruin people's careers, he just really cared about finding true talent, and new lines were the best chances of that.

"You love destroying them," Charlie muttered, loud enough that they both knew Kurt could hear him, but he didn't comment. No one really understood the intentions behind his often-scathing reviews.

Giving up on trying to list all the issues with this dress and deciding it was a lost cause, Kurt turned to his phone, calling up his lovely fiancé at his garage, knowing he was early, but being able to talk to your fiancé anytime was a bonus of running your own company. Another bonus would be not having to depend on any other idiots to run your life.

"Hey, baby," Sam's soft voice answered immediately. Kurt felt all the tension seep out of his shoulders and a smile settle on his face at those simple words. He had never loved anything as much as he loved this man.

"You know, I do have work to do. I can't just spend all day on the phone with you," Kurt teased his fiancé, knowing that he would happily do just that if he could. Standing up to stretch the tense muscles in his back after a few long hours of sitting hunched forward, Kurt headed automatically for the Smythe designs, deciding to ignore the rest of The Pile for just a few more hours.

"Surely you can spare just a few minutes for someone that loves you more than life itself." Kurt absolutely melted at Sam's words, letting a soft 'aw' slip from his throat.

"Anytime. You know that," Kurt said seriously. Sam never let himself be teased for long.

"Of course." Kurt heard a faint thudding and quite a bit of yelling in the background before his fiancé groaned. "They have to mess up everything. I have to go, my love, but I'll see you tonight."

"Of course. I missed you while you were in California." Kurt let his voice take on a sultry tone, imagining his fiancé's expression.

"I, uh, I missed you too," Sam managed to get out, clearing his throat. Kurt chuckled softly to himself before he flipped open the Smythe folder.

"Oh my..." Never before had he seen such horribly amateur designs presented to him. Normally, people only sent in their very best, experienced-looking pieces to the most critical and well-respected fashion critic in New York. These looked like children's drawings.

"Something wrong, love?" Sam asked immediately, clearly have abandoned all thought of hanging up if Kurt was upset.

"Just some horrible folder upset my stomach with the insipid designs contained inside. Don't worry, I promise to you that no one will ever lay eyes on these insults to my industry." Kurt was already planning what could be his biggest piece since he first went viral.

"Try not to crush some young designer's dreams, love," Sam said softly. "You were that young and naive once. I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy." Only the faint, continuous buzz of an ended call responded to Kurt's statement.

The smile from his admittedly-short conversation with his fiancé lingering, Kurt looked over the Smythe collection with a sight. Here he'd been hoping for talent. Rolling his eyes at foolish hopes, Kurt began marking the pictures with his red ink, smiling to himself as he realized he'd automatically reached for the quill Sam had gotten him in Harry Potter World. He loved his fiancé all the more for his tendency to be a nerd, the quill always gave him a sense of calm, clear-headed focus.

Deciding to use to quill and being very careful of the feathers, he broke three red pens over an ornamental shot glass (simply there for decoration) to give himself some ink and began destroying any hopes Sebastian Smythe had for a successful future.

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><p>"Mm," Blaine hummed contentedly as he woke up, wrapped in his fiancé's arms and splattered in dry come. Feeling relaxed enough to stay in bed for the moment before he had to get up and cross the cold tile floor towards the shower (he was not looking forward to the trip), he took a moment to appreciate his fiancé's mussed hair, the light brown natural highlights glowing in the sun streaming in through the window. He knew the pale eyelids were covering the most amazing pair of green eyes he'd ever seen. Sebastian Smythe was an amazing man.<p>

Blaine groaned and stretched, rolling over to climb out of bed only to be stopped by Sebastian's arms tightening around him and dragging him back. "Seb," he fake-complained, more than happy to stay in the strong embrace but knowing he would have to be at work soon.

"Last night was amazing," his fiancé whispered against his neck, ignoring Blaine's complaints in favor of kissing the skin there.

"Trust me, I know. I'm not exactly excited to go to work either, but I have to be there in- Jesus!" Blaine shoved away his fiancé's arms as he noticed the time. He had a meeting in Astoria in half an hour. "I have to be in Astoria in half an hour." Blaine hurried out of bed, ignoring how cold the tile was on his bare feet and the air was on his bare skin.

"Why do you call it Astoria? Everyone else in New York calls it Queens. You sound like a tourist." Sebastian made no move to follow his boyfriend out of bed, preferring to remain in the warm cocoon of sheets.

"Aren't you getting out of bed?" Blaine asked, grabbing the outfit he'd thankfully chosen the night before off the hanger and racing for the shower, turning on the water before he remembered to turn on the heater.

"I plan to remain right here, thank you. I don't have anything to do at the office until I get a review from Hummel dot com, so I don't plan to be there." Sebastian did exactly as he said he would, simply rolling over and bringing the sheets up to his neck, covering the area that he once been warmed by his fiancé's body heat.

"When did you send your designs in to Kurt Hummel?" Blaine asked worriedly from under the cold water. Honestly, at this point he was beyond caring about his body temperature, even if his toes looked a little blue. The water heater took too damn long.

The reason he was worried? Sebastian was an amazing, beautiful man with a bright future ahead of him, but Blaine wasn't quite sure that his fiancé's future lied in fashion. He had seen some of Sebastian's work, and he'd seen some of Hummel's criticisms, and he had a feeling the two would clash. Not badly, but enough to hurt Sebastian's chances of getting Smythe off the tarmac. That being said, his fiancé's last name doubled excellently as a brand name. Blaine groaned mentally as he realized that if Hummel helped Sebastian's line as 'Smythe', he would become Blaine Smythe, and their little, teasing war over last names would be over. Sebastian Anderson sounded better.

"A few days ago. I'm hoping it'll be up today, but I know how busy he is. I tried to get a personal appointment with him, to have more of a pitch than an actual submission, but he was booked up _years_ in advance. I don't have that kind of time, Anderson." Blaine rolled his eyes at his fiancé's silly ideas. Sebastian may be lazily working on his fashion designs, but Blaine was a tycoon, and a rich one at that. Hence, the penthouse suite they were in at the moment. The couple had nothing to worry about.

"I hope you get the reviews you deserve, baby," or better, Blaine added mentally, finished washing everything vital and hopping out of the shower just as the hot water kicked in. Cursing his luck under his breath, Blaine began on his mop of hair, praying that he wouldn't be late.

"What could go wrong?" Sebastian replied cockily, and Blaine just huffed under his breath. Taming his hair as best he could and throwing on his clothes, he rushed out of the apartment, only stopping to give his fiancé a quick kiss (and push Seb away when he tried to make it a longer kiss).

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><p>A lot could go wrong. In fact, Kurt Hummel's cold words on the Smythe fashion line made Blaine's whole work crack in half.<p>

_ The Symthe clothing line, I can hardly bring myself to dignify the collection by calling it as such, lacks originality, presentation, and, to be frank, talent. When my assistant first placed the files on my desk I thought that they were either a prank from my colleagues or the drawings of a five-year-old that had been incorporated into serious designs by childish mayhem. I was appalled when I discovered that the man who had drawn these designs truly believed they were good enough to sit on my desk, never mind make it in the fashion world._

The article went on to dissect everything that was wrong with Sebastian's clothes, from the lines to the colors to the cuts. None of this interested Blaine, because those three sentences were the ones placed by Sebastian on top of the note that tore Blaine's heart into a million pieces and spread them in the cold wind outside of his window.

_Dear Blaine,  
>Writing this letter is the hardest thing I've ever done. That being said, this is also the last time you will ever hear from me. I know you can read, so you know my review by Kurt Hummel scheme didn't go over well. Serves me right for thinking I could actually do this.<br>The thoughts and plans that popped into my head when I first read this review would appall you, so I won't share them. Needless to say, I didn't go through with any of them. Instead, I sat down and tried to decide between my two great loves: fashion and you.  
>Earlier this week, I'd gotten an offer from a Japanese clothing company whose name sounds something like Warui fasshon. I decided to wait until this article came out. Now that I've been publicly embarrassed by the most revered name in New York fashion, I have accepted that offer. By the time you read this I will be in Tokyo, in my Vice President's office, trying desperately to understand what my assistant is saying.<br>I've always wanted to live in Japan. You know how much living in Paris when I was younger made me love fashion. It was the most difficult choice I've ever made, but I know I chose right when I came to Japan. I wish more than anything that you could have come with me, but this is something I needed to do alone. I hope you can understand that._

_I love you,  
>Sebastian Smythe<em>

This series of events was exactly why everyone is advised against saying 'what could go wrong?' A fucking lot, obviously.

Blaine sat down with a sigh, staring at the letter he had almost memorized, knowing Sebastian had always been a little bit of a schemer and very independent. So yes, he understood why his fiancé had left him. Did that make it any easier? No. Did that make him feel any better? Of course not. Did he still feel like curling up in a ball and crying until he died of dehydration? Yes. Had the letter helped? Fuck no.

Blaine took another deep breath, placing down the letter from his... ex-fiancé, treasuring their last connection, as much as it hurt to look at. The tears would start any moment, he knew, and he wouldn't be at work tomorrow. He had just lost his fiancé, for Pete's sake. The company could run for one day without him.

As the tears started to well up in Blaine's eyes, he looked at the signature on the letter. It wasn't the sweet signature he used to sign notes passed in class with during high school. It was his formal signature, the one he used for credit cards and bank notes and all that jazz.

Perhaps he had gotten a hint of scheming from his ex-fiancé, but a plan began to form in Blaine's mind even as tears obscured his vision of the signature. That signature could be used for _anything_ with the right push-and-pull. Even, if Blaine pulled the right strings, a marriage license. If they were legally bound, what choice would Seb have but to come back home and live their happily ever after with Blaine?

Leaning back to avoid getting any tears on the precious, precious signature, Blaine decided right there and then that he would join them in holy matrimony. He did resolve himself, however, to a day of crying, watching bad romantic movies, and eating ice cream at the loss of his fiancé. Not only did he seemingly not control his emotions at the moment, but he deserved the break.

* * *

><p>"God, I love you," Sam murmured into Kurt's bare shoulder, kissing at the exposed skin as he spooned behind his fiancé.<p>

"I love you too," Kurt whispered, contorting his neck, and thanking all that is holy (McQueen, Prada, and Jacobs, of course) that he was flexible, to kiss his fiancé as they snuggled in for bed. Their tongues twined in a way that was familiar but still sent sparks racing to every corner of Kurt's body. The fashionista twisted in his fiancé's arms to make the angle easier, relaxing as one of Sam's hands slipped up the back of his shirt, a solid, warm, familiar presence on his back.

"Can we talk about something?" Sam asked, speaking the words so close to his lips that Kurt could barely understand him.

"Does it have to be right now?" he whispered back, because _talking_ wasn't really what he had in mind for the evening, if you catch his drift...

"It's important," Sam said firmly, and Kurt sighed but nodded, pulling away enough that they could talk, but making sure Sam's hands stayed just where they were. "I was wondering if you'd ever considered taking up those offers on writing for a magazine."

Sam's comment, as simple as it was, completely blind-sided the younger man. Ever since Kurt had started with his blog Sam had been nothing but supportive of the independent route he had decided to travel. He didn't make the greatest money, but he did well for himself, and they had Sam's garage.

"Of course not," Kurt replied, and he couldn't help but be indignant. "Why would I write for some yuppie, fashionably-challenged magazine that would try to curb my strong views?" Sam ran his hand still beneath Kurt's shirt up and down his back, soothing the obviously annoyed man.

"I'm not trying to insult your individualism, baby. I'm just thinking that economically it might be a good move for us. The recession has hit the garage a little harder than I like to admit," Sam said sheepishly, looking at Kurt with soulful eyes, obviously hoping for forgiveness.

Kurt sighed as he realized working for Vanity Fair may become his life for the good of his marriage. "I'll talk to some people in the morning, if it's really that important." Secretly he hoped it wasn't really that important, but he would do whatever he needed to in order to be with Sam.

"It's not important right now, but you would do it if it was necessary, right?" Sam asked, and Kurt smiled as he realized that was all his fiancé had wanted. The conformation that Kurt would help out if he needed to. The conformation that Kurt loved Sam more than he loved his blog. Well, Sam could rest assured, there was no competition.

"Of course, Sammy." Sam leaned forward to press a kiss to his fiancé's lips, which started out loving and became much dirtier and passionate. "Can we get this night back on track please?" Kurt asked, looking wrecked and sounding out-of-breath.

"Yes, please," Sam replied, rolling over so that he was on top of his fiancé.

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><p>A night of ice cream and crying behind him, Blaine walked into his office the next day with dark shadows under his eyes and a short temper, something very unusual for the relaxed tycoon. He had lost his sangfroid.<p>

"Ever heard of SE Garage?" he demanded of a surprised looking secretary who was technically supposed to be _his_, but he had never actually spoken to her in his life. He was a self-sufficient man, he didn't need a secretary: the adult equivalent of a babysitter.

"Yes, sir. Extremely popular uptown, a small, non-chain business run by Sam Evans, the fiancé of fashion critic and icon Kurt Hummel." Blaine resisted the urge to growl at the name. He would get his revenge on the man who had taken his sweetheart from him. An eye for an eye, they say. Let's see how quickly Hummel gets married when his fiancé's business goes under. Maybe they'll even split up and Hummel will understand what he does to people.

"I want it sunk. I want all it's assets liquidated, and I want Sam Evans more broke than the hobo who always pisses in our fountain." He didn't offer a word of explanation or help to the surprised woman, who immediately went to her phone.

Sam Evans was collateral damage in his mind at the moment. Anyone who would willingly fall in love with someone who tore apart good men's lives for fun deserved to be ruined. No, Blaine wasn't getting a God complex, but he knew that Evans and Hummel would both pay for the fact that his first and only love is in Tokyo.

Blaine sighed, placing his feet on his desk as he had seen some of his lackeys do and finding the position incredibly comfortable. No wonder they did this all the time.

Sometimes his power felt a bit addicting, but he would do anything to get his baby back... and if the revenge lit a fire under his soon-to-be not-so-ex fiancé's skin, that was just a bonus.

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><p>Kurt Hummel's life was turning to dust around him and he was unfortunately dealing with this in the very way that had caused him to puke on a mysophobic guidance counselor's shoes during his sophomore year of high school: alcohol. Kurt had taken the accursed drug in the form of every shot he could get his hands on, and at this point he thought 'take that, liver!' every time he threw one back.<p>

How did a once-great fashion critic reach this point? Well, it seems Sam had a more valid fear of the garage losing economic ground than he realized. It was only four days after they had that accursed talk that the garage fell under beyond repair. Sam couldn't salvage any assets as their stocks suddenly tipped in the wrong way and customer consumption went down by almost eighty percent.

How this had happened? Kurt had no idea.

Vanity Fair had been more than happy to take on the most critically-acclaimed writer in the business, but since life seemed determined to screw him over in as many ways as possible, they claimed he had to start on a beginning level, meaning that the salary he got was barely enough to cover their current lifestyle.

Long story short: he was not getting married in two months, as they had planned.

Kurt flicked his shot glass towards the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered into small flakes of glass, little bits of vodka spraying in a small circle, masquerading as water.

Why had life never worked out the way he wanted? He got out of Lima! He found a man he loved that supported everything he did and ignored the fact that he had gone to an expensive and prestigious music school (the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts) and then decided to be a fashion writer. He'd had a great, stable life, and he was _happy._ Apparently, that was not life's plan for him.

"Cranberry vodka," he heard his voice order even though he knew more alcohol would not be a good idea.

"I think you need to sober up a little," the bartender said, glancing at the stain his vodka glass had left on the wall with disdain. "How about some water?" The bartender gave Kurt exactly that, and Kurt flicked the glass again, water spilling all over the bartender.

"How about you give me my fucking vodka?" The bartender ignored him, tapping the bar twice before turning his back on the very angry man. Kurt didn't realize what was happening until the security guard escorted him out of the bar. He didn't have the equilibrium to fight back, so he didn't try.

Tossed out of the bar, thoroughly steamed, and not at all sobered up, Kurt headed for the city hall. He had been the idiot. He had wanted to big wedding. Now he knew: all he wanted was Sam, and he was pretty sure that the answer to his problem was in the big city hall building on... Worth Street. It was near Chinatown... or maybe even in Chinatown.

So, he was at Anotheroom, Inc. The address was 249 West Broadway. So, he could walk there. Good plan.

Somehow, New York seemed much bigger and scarier when the shadows looked like muggers. Or maybe there really were that many muggers. He was somewhere between Manhattan and Brooklyn. So... maybe. Well, scary shadows or scarier muggers, none of them bothered Kurt.

The lights in the Big Building to Solve All His Problems hurt Kurt's eyes, but he trudged up the stairs, noticing that quite a few of them moved and wondering if this was part of Hogwarts.

"'Scuse me, lady," Kurt said to the lady at the desk, and somehow his words sounded far away, but hers were very, _very_ close.

"Can I help you, sir? Do you need a cab?" Kurt ignored the second question. Of course he didn't need a cab. He needed a husband, and he said so.

"I need a husband." The words sounded very clear, but they were so far away that Kurt couldn't tell if they were the right ones.

"Well, sir, do you need to fill out a marriage license?" Aha, that's what the words had sounded like earlier. When he'd had less vodka.

"Uh-huh." Kurt nodded sagely, but regretted it when the room nodded with him.

"Sir, you do realize these licenses must be filled out by two people, correct?" The lady was very annoying. Of course he knew that. "We can keep a single-filled one on hold for ten days, but it cannot be submitted without the signatures of two, marriage-eligible people." Kurt nodded again.

"I fill it out, then Sammy fills it out later?" he asked, and the lady nodded. The room didn't nod with _her_.

"Yes, that." The lady's tone was mean now. Kurt snatched the paper and filled it out, using his Sammy quill, barely able to remember his address. He could always remember his phone number though, because it had his and Sammy's birthdays in it. His name was... Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Soon-to-be Kurt Elizabeth Evans. He liked that.

Kurt slapped the paper back down on the lady's table and left without another word, annoyed with the lady's mean-tone. She'd had a nice-tone before.

"Whoops," he mumbled as he bumped into a tie with a guilty look. Huh. Tie had a pretty face... and a guilty one.

Now. He needed a cab. And it was cold. Drat it. Winter.

* * *

><p>Blaine was perfectly centered when he walked into the marriage bureau. It was a bit late at night, sure, and the only other client was a very tipsy looking, if not flat out drunk, man with chestnut hair and eyes that squeezed his heart because they were so similar to Sebastian's. This man seemed to be filling out the papers with a quill, the lady helping him looking at him with disgust.<p>

Blaine hadn't touched the liquid courage before he got here, knowing drink would only make the forgery harder. True, what he was about to do was illegal, but he was doing it for love, and that's all that mattered to him.

Approaching the desk next to the now clearly drunk man, Blaine smiled charmingly at the woman helping him. "Hello, ma'am. My name is Blaine Anderson and I need to file a store-away marriage license."

"Pity a young charmer like you needs a store-away," the woman flirted back, getting the paper as she spoke. Blaine glanced over at the drunk man, the perfect idea forming in his head.

"She's not getting in from Japan until Friday, and she wanted to do this as soon as she arrived. Unfortunately, she's arriving while I'll be away on conference, so a store-away is the only way." He didn't feel bad about lying to her, considering she was flirting with an engaged man. However, he lied about the genders to make it easier for her to flirt. All part of the plan.

"Is there any chance I could take this away from him?" Blaine asked, jerking his head towards the drunk man who was still filling out his sheet as ink dribbled from the end of his quill, forming unsightly splotches.

The woman smiled again and nodded. "I'm not supposed to bring you back here," she whispered and giggled, obviously feeling freed by the forbidden act. She ushered Blaine into a small closet. Oh, the irony.

"Take your time, sweetheart. I have a feeling drunky's going to be out there for a while." The woman gave Blaine one last smile before leaving him alone.

Having planned this efficiently ahead, Blaine filled out his information and Sebastian's, remembering to sign only his name. Taking the heart-breaking letter from his pocket, he quickly forged the signature from the perfectly executed example, actually tracing it through the paper, and then stuffing the letter back in his pocket.

It was easy for Blaine to find his way back to the desk he was being helped at. He handed the paper over to her with a winning smile, knowing that it would find it's way into the processing pile, and he would soon be legally married to his Prince Eric.

"Have a wonderful day," Blaine said to the lady helping him as he left. The drunk idiot at the desk next to him swung around and bumped into him as he did.

"Whoops," the drunk muttered under his breath before stumbling out of the building. Blaine just sighed and headed down the same steps easily, hoping that he found a cab instead of becoming a blood splatter on the New York City street.

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><p><strong>AN: First chapter finished.** **I hope you guys enjoyed. All the addresses and things in this fic are real (not that you probably care, but all the New Yorkers out there know that it's true).**

**Reviews are Love. Please, no character bashing in reviews, it's really not appreciated. (Okay, so you can Sebastian-bash. I really hate that guy. But no Blaine or Sam bashing, all right?)  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the enthusiastic review I got for the last chapter! Reviews really make my day. I've decided to give you guys an update every four days. However, I did mean to post this yesterday, and then forgot. I apologize.** **All**_ italics_ **are phone conversations/Kurt singing/unsung lyrics.**

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><p>Kurt stumbled into their apartment singing, falling into the loving and strong arms of his fiancé.<p>

_Look what we've got  
>A fairy-tale plot<br>Our very own happy ending_

_Where we couldn't be happier  
>True, dear?<br>Couldn't be happier_

_And we're happy to share  
>Our ending vicariously<br>With all of you_

_He couldn't look handsomer  
>I couldn't feel humbler<br>We couldn't be happier  
>Because happy is what happens<br>When all your dreams come true!_

Kurt giggled as he finished his impromptu rendition of the song, the alcohol making his world rose-colored and shiny now, rather than red and full of dark shadows like it had before. "Hi, love," he said to his wonderful fiancé, leaning up to kiss Sam.

"Honey, where have you been?" Sam ignored Kurt's searching lips. "I've been worried sick."

"I went to the bureau." Kurt said, and the world didn't nod with him this time. Probably because he was in Sam's arms.

"How much have you had to drink?" Sam asked, obviously concerned, but Kurt shook his head.

"That's not important. I went to the bureau," Kurt repeated, needing his boyfriend to know how important this was to him. The alcohol had just... helped.

"Honey, a bureau is a piece of furniture. I think it's time for you to go to bed." Kurt shoot his head, mostly used to the way the world shook with it.

"No. The _marriage_ bureau," Kurt explained. Really, it was the same thing he had just said, just different words.

"Why were you at the marriage bureau?" At least Sammy had stopped trying to drag him away. Kurt righted himself as best he could, and placed his hands on Sammy's shoulders.

"I realized something at the bar." Sammy was going to interrupt him, but Kurt didn't give him the chance. "I don't want a big wedding. I don't _need_ a big wedding. What I want and need... is you." Kurt ruined the dignity of his small speech by hiccuping at the end. Sammy's eyes were wet anyway.

"Kurt, I don't want you to give up your dreams of a white wedding with all your family just for me. We can make this work. Maybe not this year, maybe not in two years, but we can make this work." Kurt was shaking his head by the time Sam finished.

"I'm not giving up anything, because I have you. I want _you_. _Now_. Uh, and not like that. Well, like that too, but that's not what-" Sam cut off his babbling and completely drunk fiancé with a kiss.

"How did you file a marriage license without me?" Sam asked after a few minutes, as if this had just occurred to him.

"I had to do something called store-away. You can go fill it out tomorrow, and then we'll be married." Kurt went back to kissing his fiancé, elated by the idea of finally being married. He didn't care about a big wedding or a tropical honeymoon. All he needed was Sam and that lovely bed right over there. Speaking of beds, "fuck me."

"Baby, you're drunk," Sam said, shocked or angry or something. Something that did _not_ sound like he was going to fuck Kurt.

"I don't care," Kurt muttered, leaning up to kiss at Sam's big mouth and squeeze his ass. Sexual coercion was the best invention ever thought up.

* * *

><p>Alexandria Mason was not having a good night. The late shift at the marriage bureau was supposed to be easy. Who came in to get married at eleven at night?<p>

Apparently, two people in the city of New York decided this would be a good idea on her shift. Her heart sunk as she looked at the two papers in front of her. Store-aways. Great.

The routine with store-aways was as follows: you type them into the computer the night you get them, and if you don't have the rest to fill in within ten days, they get deleted. Easy, right?

Wrong. Computers, especially her computer, don't like it when you don't fill out the entirety of the license, and tend to get cranky, either losing the information or editing it.

Sighing to herself, Alexandria began typing, her eyes drooping and the words blurring as she did. Luckily, she didn't even need to look at the keys, just following the lines of both licenses, using her tab button to work across a split screen. It was much easier for her to have two licenses open on her computer and fill in both at once.

She frowned when she realized one wasn't a store-away and a mistake had been made, but her brain was in too much of an exhausted haze to care. She was in the middle of finals and had probably gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep in the entire week.

So, Blaine Anderson had married Kurt Hummel, and Sebastian Smythe was waiting on... someone, she couldn't even know what gender it was automatically anymore, to fill the other half out. Fine by her.

* * *

><p>Something had died in his mouth. The mother of whatever had died in his mouth was clearly taking revenge by jack-hammering his brain. Those were Kurt's only two coherent thoughts when he woke up the next morning, curled in Sam's arms. Kurt groaned quietly, not wanting to upset his own headache, as he realized that unless he wanted to puke all over his fiancé he would have to get up.<p>

Kurt did exactly that, stumbling over to their bathroom and curling over the toilet as the contents of his stomach made themselves known in a rather dramatic way. He had probably only been there for two minutes before a hand was stroking down his back, another pulling his bangs away, and a soft voice mutterings sweet nothings.

Once Kurt's stomach was empty, he leaned his head against the bowl, knowing how unsanitary it was but frankly not caring. "That's what you get for drinking all night," Sam whispered, but he picked up his far-too-light fiancé and carried him back to bed.

"Mm," Kurt agreed half-heartedly, sleep seeming like a pretty great idea to him.

Sleep continued to seem like a excellent way to spend the day as Sam curled around him, but that ideal was brought short as Sam whispered in Kurt's ear "how long do I have to fill out the other half of the marriage license?" and the events of the previous night came flooding back to him.

"Ten days," Kurt replied, but he jumped out of bed anyway, immediately regretting it as his head pounded with blood and he swayed on his feet a little.

"Woah, what's the rush?" Sam asked, shivering as a sudden blast of cold winter air filled the space once occupied by his fiancé.

"I want to get married," Kurt said, rolling his eyes and once again wishing he hadn't. "Come on, slow poke, we have to get to Worth Street."

"No patience. None," Sam mock-complained as he rolled out of bed, grabbing clothes and not even trying to beat Kurt to the shower. He never won.

* * *

><p>As soon as the couple was dressed and clean, they headed for the marriage bureau, deciding to walk despite the chill, holding hands as they traversed the city streets, knowing no one would say anything. Kurt was practically bouncing he was so excited, and he caught Sam giving him looks so full of love they made his heart clench. The walk seemed to take an eternity.<p>

"Hello," he said cheerily to the woman at the front desk, relieved that it was not the same one from the previous night. "My name is Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and I filed a store-away license last night." The lady nodded, ear buds in, obviously not caring about what Kurt had to say.

Kurt bounced still, mood un-dampened by the woman's lack of interest, as she filed through the store-aways. "Yeah, don't worry. Your husband already filled out the other half." Only then did Kurt freeze.

"Excuse me, that's not possible. My _fiancé_ is right here, and he's been with me since I filed it. There must be some sort of mistake. I would like to file a new one." Kurt knew he'd been drunk, but he certainly wasn't drunk enough to marry someone besides Sam.

"Polygamy isn't legal in this country, kid. You're already married." Sam looked at Kurt in shock, and the fashion critic knew his face was bone-white.

"That's not possible," he repeated. "I filled out half of the sheet last night, and Sam is here to fill in the other half this morning." The woman just shook her head and popped her gum, seeming not to care about the supernova going off in Kurt's head.

"Great for you. Here's the annulment papers you'll need to sign and get your current husband to sign in order to marry a new one. Have them notarized and bring them back." The woman placed a stack of papers that Kurt would estimate as one and a half Harry Potter books on the desk and turned away.

"Excuse me," Kurt said politely, feeling his patience wearing thin behind his poker face. When he was ignored, he allowed a more forceful tone to enter his voice as he repeated the words, this time a snap.

"What the hell could you possibly want?" The woman was clearly annoyed.

"I don't know who my 'husband' is." Perhaps it was slightly third-grade of him to include the actual air quotes, but the indifference of this woman to a mistake clearly made by their department upset him.

"Name, address, phone number." The woman printed a piece of paper quickly and placed it on top of the annulment forms. "Have a nice day."

Only Sam's presence kept Kurt from giving her a piece of his mind.

His fiancé took a hold of his hand as they walked down the steps of the bureau, and the air between them tingled with tension. "You're married." Sam didn't sound angry, or even surprised, but simply shell-shocked.

"Of course not, baby. I've never even looked at another guy since we got together. Who else could compare? There was simply a mistake made in the system that I now have to fix. Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Kurt promised the love of his life. Sam have him a look devoid of any emotion before kissing him hard, right there on the street. Only Sam's strong arms around him kept him from falling as the passionate kiss made him weak at the knees, and he had to clutch at his fiancé to keep himself upright.

"Everything will be okay," Sam whispered against his lips as he pulled away for oxygen. Whether he was trying to convince himself or Kurt, the fashion critic wasn't sure, and he would be willing to bet that Sam didn't know either. However, Sam's reassurance was true.

"I promise," Kurt said, pressing one soft kiss to his fiancé's lips. "I have to be at my new job in twenty minutes." Kurt sighed. He really wasn't looking forward to being a puppet to a fashion magazine. "I'll confront whomever I'm married to after work, and hopefully by the next time I see you I'll be a single man." Kurt tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's eyes remained serious.

"I love you," he said firmly, releasing the fashion critic at last.

"I love you too," Kurt replied, extricating himself from the mechanic's grip and heading for Times Square, knowing he was cutting it close but not caring as he could feel his fiancé's stare boring a hole in his back as he walked away.

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson was married to Sebastian Smythe. Even thinking the sentence sent a rush of joy through the tycoon, who was taking a cold walk through Central Park as he waited for Sebastian to pick up. Thanks to the Internet and handy time zone calculators, he knew that it was six in the morning in Japan because it was four in the afternoon in New York, and he knew Seb would be awake.<p>

"_Hello_?" the familiar voice sent a whirlwind of emotions through Blaine.

"Seb," he breathed, unable to form a coherent sentence past the emotions building in his throat.

"_Blaine, I'm going to hang up now. You shouldn't have called_."

"Wait!" Blaine cried, not wanting his angel to hang up on him. "I have something to tell you."

"_Make it quick, Blaine. I have work to do_." Sebastian's voice was bored and cold, the voice he used when he was vulnerable or upset.

"We're married." There was silence on the other end of the line. "I went to the marriage bureau, and I forged your signature off of the letter you left me, and we're married." Blaine held his breath as he waited for Sebastian to respond.

"_Oh, Blaine_," Sebastian whispered into the phone, sounding frustrated and upset. "_Why did you do that? I'm not coming back, and a New York license, a gay marriage one especially, has no effect on me here. All you've done is taken away your chance for future happiness_."

"I don't want 'future happiness'," Blaine responded tartly, upset that Sebastian was not happy. "I want you, and now I have you."

"_You don't have me, Blaine. I'm happy here. I'm successful, and I'm happy. I... I have a boyfriend_." Blaine's heart broke, the band-aids he'd been using to hold it together until Seb returned rotting and turning to poisonous goo, filling his already abused organ with holes... metaphorically, of course.

"It hasn't even been a week," Blaine responded dully, in too much pain to be angry about what had happened.

"_I'm happy here, Blay. I'm successful, and I love it. I've moved on, and you need to as well. When you find the perfect guy for you, send the annulment papers overseas and you'll have them back within a week_."

"Seb, I love you," Blaine whispered tearfully, ignoring the looks he was getting from the families passing by as he broke down in the middle of Central Park.

"_Move on, Blaine. Move on_." Sebastian hung up and Blaine sank onto the snow-covered path, not even caring about the cold wetness seeping into the back of his pants. His entire life had fallen apart in less than a week, and there was only one person to blame: Kurt Hummel.

* * *

><p>Work. From. Hell.<p>

That best described his day at Vanity Fair, as well as every day he'd spent at 4 Times Square. Kurt rifled through what must have been a hundred amateur reports, forced to read every one, and ended up throwing the lot of them in the garbage. For a magazine always searching for talent, they didn't have a lot of it on hand.

Cracking his sore knuckles, even though he knew it was a bad habit, he pulled the printed sheet from his bag. His husband's address was at least in a good part of town, and his suite was obviously the penthouse or close below.

Kurt crossed the street for the nearest subway station, taking the one uptown towards his husband's apartment.

He wasn't, of course, angry with the man who had mistakenly become his husband. Surely, it hadn't been his fault. If anything, he was probably now in the same situation, married to the wrong person, and horrified by it. Kurt was glad he didn't enter Sam's information, what could have happened if _both_ of them ended up married to the wrong person?

Anyway, as long as his husband cooperated and signed the annulment papers quickly, he would have no beef with the man. He even knew a notary that worked near his husband's address. He would be single by sunrise (sundown had already happened, but it was only five thirty. Curse winter).

Kurt steeled his nerves as he rode the elevator to his husbands floor. He had been correct in his assumption that his husband owned the penthouse. He hesitantly knocked on the wide, polished door, and waited for an answer.

* * *

><p>Blaine was sprawled on the couch, dressed in sweat pants and one of Seb's old lacrosse jerseys, thoroughly depressed and almost out of chocolate chip ice cream.<p>

Despite everything he had done, every law he had broken to get back his angel, nothing had worked, and he was alone. The silence in the apartment tore at his heart the most. Sebastian was a loud creature, always baking something or watching something or singing something and never standing or sitting still for more than ten seconds.

The tycoon was preparing to get more ice cream out of the refrigerator when he heard a knock on the door. Too lazy and uncaring to check who it was, Blaine swung the door open to reveal the man he'd seen drunk at the bureau the night before, now fully sober and composed.

"Oh, great." The words slipped out of Blaine's mouth before he could control them, not that he regretted them, of course.

"Hello," the man said awkwardly. "I know this is a strange situation, but we seem to have a problem."

"You were at the marriage bureau last night." The man nodded. "You filed a store-away." Another nod. "You were drunk off your ass." A blush this time, and a nod.

"May I come in?" Blaine nodded yes before he realized he didn't even know the man's name. Oh well. He seemed generally harmless, even if he couldn't hold his liquor.

"So, what's our problem?" Blaine asked, gesturing for the man to take a seat on the couch. He did so, Blaine would guess later, out of politeness, but the sweaty, smelly blankets and tear-besotted pillows did not make it an appealing place to sit.

"We seem to be married." Blaine blinked once. Then again. Then decided the man was crazy, but he could sort that out later.

"Okay, uh, what's your name?" Blaine asked, not sure how to address the man sitting rather uncomfortably on his couch.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, fashion critic for Vanity Fair magazine." The moment the name registered, Blaine saw red.

"You!" was all he could force out, his sudden volume and anger making Hummel flinch.

"Me?" Hummel asked, and Blaine laughed coldly.

"You! You ruined my life! And I ruined yours! And now you're here, trying to tell me that we're married? Get lost!" Blaine yelled, scaring the critic out of his mind but feeling no remorse.

"I'm sorry, but how exactly did I ruin your life?" Hummel asked confused, and Blaine laughed again, no humor in the sound.

"You destroyed my fiancé's clothing line. You shamed him so badly he moved to _Tokyo!_ As in Japan!" The sadness over what had happened earlier had nothing on his rage towards the man on his couch and barely made a blip on Blaine's emotional radar.

"I'm sorry, but who is your fiancé? Or, was your fiancé, I suppose?" Kurt wasn't saying it meanly, but it was obviously taken wrong by this crazy tycoon with multiple personality disorder.

"Sebastian Smythe," Blaine practically snarled the name, and Hummel's eyes widened in understanding.

"Have you seen his designs?" Blaine nodded, still glaring ferociously at Kurt. "You can't think he's good enough to make it in the big leagues."

"Of course he isn't. You don't think I know that? I may be in love, but I'm not stupid, Hummel, I've got eyes. But publicly shaming someone to the point they _leave the country_? That just makes you a bitch," Blaine snarled.

"It's not my fault Sebastian decided to submit his designs. If anyone's to blame for this, it's you, for not telling him that he _sucked_. Well, of course, I'm sure he did in many ways." Kurt stood up, enraged by the insult, facing his husband square on. Blaine resisted the urge to hit the man as he spoke of the love of his life in such a fashion.

"Don't. You. Ever. Talk. About. Seb. Like. That." If Blaine could control the powers of nature, his eyes would be glowing red right now, fangs growing as he scared this pathetic fashion writer into his proper place.

"Well, you ruined my life right back!" Kurt countered, not having any idea what he was talking about, but bluffing to turn the tide. "You're the one who pushed Sam's company under, aren't you?" The way Blaine turned his head away was enough of an answer for Kurt. "You destroyed my innocent fiancé's life. That's just _low_. He's always supported me to be _nicer_ about my reviews. I gave your fiancé the reviews he deserved, and you gave mine hell because you were angry with me. You're _pathetic_."

Blaine took a few seconds to breath, perfecting his façade, but internally seething with rage. Hummel had no right to talk to him like this.

"Well, I'm glad your relationship with your fiancé is still going strong," Blaine said calmly, his poker face absolute perfection as he went from sixty to zero in one point five. "Too bad you'll never be able to marry him if I don't sign those papers, _honey_." Blaine smirked, and Hummel's face reddened.

"You bitch. Just because you couldn't hang on to a talent-less whore doesn't mean you have the right to ruin my life." Blaine just smiled as Hummel got riled up.

"I wouldn't be calling him that if I were you. It's not gaining you any brownie points." Blaine kept his voice chocolate-smooth and calm. "You're definitely going to need a bunch of those to have any hope that I will sign those papers."

"You wouldn't..." Hummel left the sentence unfinished, and Blaine just shrugged.

"Why not? I've got nothing to loose. Like you said, I couldn't hang on to Seb. So, how is it hurting me to stay married to you?" Hummel didn't answer. "Exactly. It isn't. Whiskey?" Blaine asked politely, leaving Hummel standing there shell-shocked.

Blaine was shocked but didn't let it show when Hummel answered "Yes, please," sitting back down on the couch with a sigh and placing his head in his hands. Shrugging and secretly wondering if his new husband was an alcoholic, Blaine headed for the kitchen and poured two shots of whiskey.

Bringing the shots back into the living room, he handed one to Kurt. "To new marriage!" he toasted mockingly, raising his glass in Kurt's direction.

Kurt replied "Fuck you," raising his glass in a mockery of Blaine before throwing the shot back like a pro. Blaine did the same.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up... not wrapped in Sam's arms. Instead, someone was wrapped in <em>his<em> arms, small and compact but oh-so-warm. Kurt held said-body close until he realized what this meant.

First of all, the sun was in his face, pouring through the open windows of a penthouse suite with a great view of New York City spread out before the occupants of the penthouse bed. Second, he did not remember going home the previous night. Third, he was still married. Fourth, he was not very well-clothed, and neither was the person he was holding. Last, but certainly not least, the last person he remembered seeing was Blaine Anderson, local tycoon and his new husband.

These five facts led to one horrifyingly inevitable conclusion: he had cheated on his fiancé with his husband.

Kurt pushed the body in his arms, _Blaine_, away. The tycoon only rolled over, obviously a heavy sleeper. Wondering where his clothes had gotten to, and knowing he had to be at work at any minute, Kurt sprung out of bed, glad that his hangover was not as bad. Somehow, his hangovers after blackouts were never as bad. He only ever threw up if he could remember what had happened the night before.

Checking around the apartment, and trying to ignore the fact that Blaine could awake at any moment and see him wandering around in his underwear, Kurt couldn't locate his clothes. One horrible thought (or perhaps it was a memory) occurred to him, and he looked out the window. Surely enough, his clothes were on the balcony of another apartment. Shit.

Glad he still had his underwear, he rifled through the drawers of Blaine's apartment (he could always use 'what's mine is yours' to justify the stealing), finding some slacks long enough (he guessed they were Sebastian's) and a pressed shirt that would work and quickly donning them, not hanging around long enough to shower.

He left before Blaine woke up.

* * *

><p>"Charlie, I need my emergency outfit. Stat." The shirt he'd taken was too baggy, and the pants slightly <em>too<em> long, and Kurt looked like a mess. Thankfully, he'd been allowed to bring his assistant to Vanity Fair with him, and Charlie always had his back.

"Emergency outfit," Charlie replied, handing over a garment bag as Kurt blessed him repeatedly. "No problem, honey. Honestly, you and Sam must have one hell of a time in the sack." Kurt shook his head, then realized what he was saying and nodded, and then gave up on trying to answer with dignity and shooed Charlie out of his office so that he could change.

"Let's just say last night was _not_ what I expected it to be," Kurt replied, changing clothes with the efficiency only someone who had once worked the runway had.

"Oh la la. Anyway, shall I list the ways in which life decided to torture you today?" Charlie didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Your father called earlier, something about wanting to talk to Sam before the wedding, and it was the usual joint call with your step-mother. Sam's called eight-and-a-half times. The last one he hung up because I think he realized he was acting desperate, I have no idea why he's called so much. Oh, and you have a meeting in twenty minutes. Good thing you have an emergency outfit." Kurt groaned.

"Get me Sam on line one please, and my dad on line two, and see what you can do to postpone that meeting." Charlie nodded at Kurt's instructions and went straight over to the phone. "Oh, and coffee."

"Hey, Sammy baby. I know you must have been worried, but negotiations with my husband took longer than I thought." Charlie mouthed 'husband?', eyes open wide with shock, but Kurt chose to ignore him.

"_All right, I was just worried. I love you_."

"Yes, I love you too. I'm sorry that I worried you, but I stayed at a hotel.

"_Kurt, a hotel_?"

Yes, a hotel, Sam. Our finances are stable enough for one night at a hotel." Kurt's cell rang and line two picked up a call. Charlie chuckled. "Can you hold for just one second, love?" Kurt didn't wait for an answer, going to line one.

"Hi, dad."

"_I want to talk to that fiancé of yours before the wedding, and he better want to talk to me._"_  
><em>

"Yes, of course Sam wants to talk to you before the wedding. I don't know when that will be though, there's been some news." Kurt's father started in on the endless stream of questions, too fast for Kurt to answer one before the next came.

"_What the hell could have happened that you postponed the wedding? Kurt, what is going on there? Why is your web site no longer available? Did you sell your soul to some idiot magazine? I don't like not knowing what's going on there, you have to tell me, kiddo, all right? Is it money? Do you need help from Carole and I?_"

"Cell phone," Charlie commented, and Kurt looked at him gratefully.

"One second, dad, I have to answer my cell. You'll only be on hold for a second, I promise." Kurt quickly picked up his cell phone, not recognizing the caller ID but not wanting to keep both his dad and fiancé on hold for long enough for him to puzzle out who it could be. "Hello?"

"_You forgot your clothes_," was the only comment from his cell phone, but he recognized the voice automatically.

"Blaine, I really don't have time for this back and forth," Kurt replied, already feeling annoyed with his husband and dropping his phone on his desk, open.

"Fiancé, line one." Kurt swore under his breath and picked up his office phone.

"Sam?"

"_You there, baby? You think you'll manage to get those papers signed by your... husband?_"

"Of course I'll get the papers signed. I'm even on my cell with my husband right now." Charlie smirked, and Kurt flipped him off. "I'm sorry I left you on hold. I love you, and I'll be home on time tonight, all right?"

"_Of course. I love you too, baby._" Sam hung up and Kurt put the receiver down on his desk, placing his head in his hands, groaning at what his life had become.

"Dad on line two," Charlie reminded him, and Kurt grabbed at the phone again, hitting the button to talk to his father.

"Hey, Dad. Sorry about that. Work's really busy, I'm working at Vanity Fair now. Yes, the reason is financial, _no_, we do not need help."

"_Just making sure, kid_._ We're still your parents, after all._"

"I know, and I love you guys. I've got to go though, I have a meeting in..." Charlie mouthed 'eight' and Kurt nodded. "About ten minutes."

"_All right. You need to hang up again? I just got one more thing to ask you._" Kurt groaned, and put his dad on hold.

"Husband, cell," Charlie added helpfully.

"How did you even get this number?" Kurt asked his husband, annoyed.

"_Don't you need to talk to your father and fiancé? P.S. if the phone's open, I can hear you._" Blaine didn't sound annoyed, but rather entertained, holding those papers over his head.

"Look, Blaine, I know you think this is funny, but I _really_ need to get those papers signed and notarized." Blaine's sigh came over the phone as a rush of static.

"_You really don't get this, do you?_" A pause, and Kurt was ready to strangle this man. "_Meet me at the Balto statue in Central Park at three o'clock. You're a New Yorker, you know where that is._" His husband hung up on him.

"And last but not least, father still on line two." Charlie's comments were starting to feel more like commentary at this point.

"What else could you possibly want to ask me?" Kurt asked his dad, irate thanks to the call from his husband.

"_I was wondering when the next time I get to come up to New York is. I miss you, kiddo._" Kurt's heart softened, and he smoothed out his tone.

"I'm sorry, I'm dealing with a lot right now, but I miss you too. Soon, all right?"

"_All right. Bye, kiddo_."

"Bye, dad. I love you."

"_Love you too._" The final dial tone hummed in Kurt's ear, and he finally hung up his accursed phone.

"Meeting in three," Charlie added. Kurt just glared at him. "Oh, this is too good. A father, a husband, and a fiancé, all on the phone at once, most of them even knowing about the others."

"Charlie, this is not funny." Kurt gave his assistant the deadliest glare he could muster.

"Relax. I'm just glad you're having some fun. Marrying a stranger late at night when you're drunk definitely counts." Kurt just sighed, slumping momentarily against his desk before standing up and stretching, prepared for the meeting with Marc (Jacobs, that is).

"It wasn't intentional," he replied to his assistant as he left the room, folder of passable designs in his hands, and tension written all over his face.

"Never is."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Kurt's little drunken ditty is from **_'Wonderful'_ from Wicked**, and Blaine's mini-appropriate-serenade was** _'Amazed'_ by Lonestar**, in case you couldn't figure that out.** **I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I believe I own you guys another chapter today, so here goes it. Also, I dropped the rating for now, because there's nothing above a 'T' in here at the moment. Later, I promise, but not now.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Blaine made Kurt wait for ten minutes before he made his presence known. The lithe man was huffing, tapping his foot, and checking his watch as he waited, not even bothering to look around. Even if he had, Blaine was out of sight. He sat on the cold base of the Balto statue as his husband froze, snow seeping into the back of his pants and the backpack sitting next to him. He was in sight of Kurt, but wouldn't have noticed him if he wasn't looking for him, so there was no way Kurt would be able to see him.<p>

Finally, when Kurt looked to be at the end of his patience, Blaine called out "You waiting for someone?" knowing Kurt would be able to hear him over the light traffic both winter and the middle of the week caused. Central Park seemed less glamorous to tourists during the winter. To New Yorkers, it was the quintessence of a winter wonderland.

"Took you long enough," Kurt replied, choosing to ignore Blaine's cheeky greeting. He looked cold, even bundled up in a coat Blaine didn't recognize the designer of, and a scarf that Blaine wouldn't bet much (about a hundred dollars or so) was Hermes.

"I've been here the whole time you have." Kurt ignored him. "Hey, baby," he gave his husband a proper greeting, smirking and hopping off the statue. He grabbed his backpack and headed for his husband.

"I'm not your baby." When Blaine didn't respond, settling a comfortable two feet away from Kurt, the critic added "It's illegal to sit on that statue."

"I've lived in New York for as long as you have, sweetie, you think I don't know that?" He also knew money bought favors and silence, so he'd already bribed the police officer assigned to their current quadrant.

"Probably longer," Kurt muttered under his breath. At Blaine's questioning look, the tycoon obviously having heard the comment, he added "I'm from Ohio," internally cringing at having to share personal information with the man who was currently sabotaging his life.

"Interesting," Blaine said indifferently. When the conversation had died, leaving only _extremely_ uncomfortable tension in its wake, Blaine handed his husband the backpack, now thoroughly soaked through at the bottom. "Your clothes."

"Thank you," Kurt replied, though he acted and sounded as though it were painful for him to do so. "How did you... retrieve them?" Blaine let a smile curl his lips up at the corners. Kurt had obviously noticed where his clothes had ended up that morning. His downstairs neighbors had been... unimpressed and surprised, to say the least, but they had happily returned them.

"My neighbors were actually the ones that woke me up with a ring of my doorbell. I guess your clothes scattered across the balcony weren't great additions to their morning coffee ritual. They were pretty upset," he lied through his teeth, and Kurt looked a little bit guilty.

After a few more moments of awkward silence, the two standing motionless in the middle of Central Park, standing purposefully at a distance, Blaine's hands in his pockets, and Kurt's clutching the top of the backpack, Kurt cleared his throat. "Blaine?" he asked, seeming hesitant.

"Yes?" Blaine replied, curious as to what Kurt could want to know, but letting himself sound entertained for the sake of bothering Kurt.

"What, exactly, happened last night?" Blaine's eyebrows shot up at Kurt's query, but it was a legitimate reaction this time. He didn't think Kurt had consumed enough whiskey to black out, but the man was tiny. He was probably a lightweight too.

"You don't remember?" Blaine let a smirk and the same amused expression cross his face, and mentally cheered when Kurt looked terrified and mildly appalled.

"No, I... I wouldn't have... we didn't... did we?" Kurt's stuttering was the first lack of decorum Blaine had seen from the fashion critic, and he rather liked getting under the lithe man's skin.

"I'm sorry. I think I need some clarification on what you're asking." Now Blaine was just being a dick, and they both knew it.

"I wouldn't _never_ cheat on Sam," Kurt said vehemently. Blaine admired his determination.

"I think last night would argue with you." All the color drained out of Kurt's face, not that there had been very much there to begin with. "Besides, we're married! Now we've consummated it at least." Perhaps he had gone a little too far with that last comment. Kurt looked about ready to pass out.

"No, no it's not possible. I don't believe you." Smart man. Blaine was a good liar, so Kurt probably figured that even though he was drunk his morals had shined through. Clearly, the fashion critic had not been much of a partier in high school and realized being drunk meant you had _no_ morals.

"Believe whatever you want... screamer," Blaine replied, purposely giving his husband an appraising up-and-down as though the image in his head had far fewer clothes. "Walk with me."

Kurt did exactly that, clearly thrown by the idea that he had cheated on his beloved Sam, even though he actually hadn't. Oh well. Blaine lead Kurt uptown, knowing there was more park that way and a longer walk in store for them to get back down to the main city. The two walked in silence, Kurt still clutching the backpack rather than wearing it, for as long as it took for Kurt to get his equilibrium back and start pestering his husband.

"What do I have to do to get you to sign those papers?" Blaine almost felt bad, Kurt sounded so desperate and hopeful, but then he remembered Kurt's cold words towards his Seb and all traces of empathy vanished.

"I haven't decided yet. I've got to say, last night definitely earned you a few brownie points." Blaine smirked as Kurt flushed, and the tycoon decided that shade of pink was a nice counterpoint to his pale skin. Objectively speaking, of course. There was absolutely nothing he found attractive about this man. "And don't look now, but that woman is staring at us with a very creepy intensity." Blaine's words had the exact same effect 'don't look down' does to anyone on a bridge. Kurt did the exact opposite and met the woman's eyes, just as she started walking towards them. "Now you've done it." His husband ignored him.

"I'm sorry for bothering you two, but it's nice to see such a happy, gay couple enjoying our winter wonderland. I know it isn't that much of a rare sight in this city, but let's just say my perspective has changed quite a bit in the past few weeks." At the twin questioning glances from the fashion critic and the tycoon, the woman elaborated. "My son just came out to me, and told me he had a boyfriend. I was surprised, to say the least, but happy for him. I guess it just changes the way you look at things. Like I said, I'm sorry to bother you. It was silly." The woman looked chagrined, flushing visibly against her Latin skin, dark, silky hair falling in her face as her head drooped. She seemed a kind soul, with a soft expression and crow's feet that spoke of a life of happiness, dressed casually but warmly. If Blaine had to guess, he would say she was thirty five to forty.

"It's not," Kurt said kindly. "Your son is lucky to have a mother like you. Not all parents are as supportive of their children as you are, and that's wonderful. I certainly wish him happiness, and I'm sure this one does too." Kurt nudged his husband, playing the part of the couple in order to appease this woman who looked so hopeful.

"Thank you very much. The two of you make a very cute couple, by the way, like you were meant to be." The woman smiled at them in a way that reminded Blaine of his mother, constantly teasing him about this boyfriend or that one.

The two kind of looked at each other in shock for a moment before Blaine remembered his manners. "Thank you. Happy Holidays." The last bit came out before he thought through it, because it was a little early to be saying that, but the kind woman smiled anyway.

"Happy Holidays to you both, and I wish you a wonderful life together," she said, smiling, and Blaine realized she had noticed the rings on both of their fingers. Blaine hadn't had the heart to take his off yet. "If I may, how did the two of you meet?"

The two looked at each other with mild horror. Their story wasn't exactly the love story the woman was looking for, but they didn't want to disappoint someone so clearly hoping to see gay happiness. "Go on, honey, you can tell her. You always tell it better." Kurt tried for, Blaine believed, besotted, but he looked rather constipated.

"Have you ever heard of a drag queen?" Blaine asked, and Kurt hit him, rather hard, he might add.

"Oh, you. He's kidding, of course." Kurt glared at him, rather intensely contrasting with the love they were trying to portray. "Well, Blaine was in-and-out of a relationship with a high school sweetheart who followed him to New York and who was horrible to him for a long time."

"Eric," Blaine piped up, naming an old high school boyfriend he could hardly remember. "Eric Link."

"Right," Kurt said shortly, obviously not appreciating the input. "One day, Eric made the biggest mistake of his life and decided he wasn't in love with this wonderful man anymore." Blaine almost snorted, but the woman looked absolutely touched. Kurt certainly could lay it on thick. "Of course, this made my Blay unhappy, and eventually his mom managed to cajole him into online dating during college, a sad fate if there ever was one." Kurt was obviously teasing, but Blaine was too distracted by the fact Kurt had used one of Sebastian's old pet names for him.

"I went on a few dates with other people on the site, and it was horrible. Imagine every nightmare online dating story you've heard, and I probably have one to match it. Guys that were actually girls, someone putting up a fake picture, absolutely everything. So, I was pretty skeptical when Kurt started talking to me." Blaine smirked at his husband, who obviously hadn't realized that they _both_ would have had to be on this site for it to work.

"Might I add: it wasn't actually me. My best friend Max was disappointed with my lack of a 'man life,' as he called it, and made the profile for me, filtering through creeps to find me a good guy. Well, he succeeded." Kurt's lies were getting better and better.

"Unfortunately, Max had listed Kurt as being in Ohio, because he thought Kurt would be returning to..." Crap, he hadn't actually asked Kurt this question.

"Lima," Kurt supplied helpfully, rolling his eyes. "I know it's off the map, but you would think you would remember it after all this time.

"We started emailing back-and-forth, the _real_ Kurt this time. I guess I counted as the good guy Max was looking for." A silly, completely-faked smile. "Eventually, I realized this was a man I could spend my life with, and I didn't even know how gorgeous he was."

Kurt blushed, even though he knew the compliment was fake, and added "I've always been camera-shy-"

"For some strange reason," Blaine cut him off, trying to sound sappy, but probably only annoying Kurt."

"So you say. Anyway, Max didn't have a good picture of me to put on the site, so I had a 'no picture available' gray screen."

"We had never really talked about college or classes, so I was amazed and surprised to find out that Kurt was attending college in New York. I think it was that conversation that led to us talking about Max and his crazy plot. Anyway, I found the address of the college he went to..." Blaine let Kurt finish, not knowing how to end the story.

"And he crashed my twenty-first birthday!" Kurt exclaimed, smiling like crazy. Honestly, they both deserved Oscars for this conversation. "I hadn't had much to drink, but I had gotten in a few shots under coercion, so it wasn't as much of a shock as it should have been to see Blaine there."

"I just came over and asked him to dance, more nervous about really talking to him than I had ever been about anything else in my life, or, rather, _have_ ever been about anything in my life." The woman looked so happy, Blaine thought he saw tears at the corners of her eyes.

"And I said yes," Kurt smiled, and the story was ended perfectly.

"What was the song?" The question caught both of them by surprise, lost in their own little story-telling moment.

"The song?" Kurt repeated rather dumbly.

"Your first dance," the woman replied, not even annoyed with Kurt's dim moment she was so emotionally attached to their lies.

"At our wedding or the club?" Okay, Kurt's lying had apparently gone out the window.

"They were the same song, sweetie," Blaine lied. "_Amazed_ by Lonestar." Please, let him know the song. _Please_, let him know the song.

"One of my favorites!" the woman exclaimed, but Blaine was willing to bet she didn't know it at all.

"Mine too," Kurt said, and he sounded shocked rather than fake-enamored, so Blaine wondered if it was true. Judging by the confused and slightly awed way Kurt looked at him for a fraction of a second before his poker face returned, Blaine bet he was being genuine. They actually had something in common.

"Like I said, I wish you two a wonderful life together. Au revoir!" the woman said cheerfully, trying to surreptitiously wipe away her tears as she left.

"Well, that was... interesting," Kurt said dumbly.

"Known each other for two days, and we already have a song," Blaine said with a grin, taunting the lithe man.

"We do not have a song," Kurt replied, obviously irritated.

"_Every time our eyes meet, this feeling inside me, it's almost more than I can take. And, baby, when you touch me, I can feel how much you love me, and it just blows me away_," Blaine crooned, trying to get an uprising out of the fashion critic and succeeding.

"Do not serenade me, Anderson. We do _not_ have a song, and we're _not_ actually married." Kurt's tone was as cold as his brilliantly blue eyes and the air around them.

"Tell that to the state of New York," Blaine said cheerfully. Kurt just glared at him. "All right. I'll find the papers tonight, sign them, bring them to your office tomorrow, and we can go get them notarized." Kurt smiled then.

"Fine, I can live with that." Obviously. However, Blaine wasn't really going to give in that easily. He would sign the papers, but he would bribe the notary closest to Kurt's office keep them in holding for a while. He planned to wring every ounce of Hummel's misery out of this that he possibly could.

"One last thing." Kurt turned towards him expectantly. "Never call me 'Blay' again," Blaine said firmly, turning and leaving.

* * *

><p>Kurt was driving Charlie insane. He would not stop looking at the door. The familiar sound of Kurt's pen scratching against photos would stop, about five seconds would pass, and then the noise would start again. He couldn't imagine what his boss was waiting for. He had one meeting, at the very end of his workday, which was coming very shortly, and they were coming to him.<p>

He wouldn't ask though. Any time Kurt was impatient, he was usually irritable because the person talking to him wasn't the person he wanted to see. It was simple fact. Charlie was sure that plenty of the very long list of assistants to Kurt Hummel before him had been fired because they had never picked up on that. Charlie wasn't stupid.

"Finally," he heard Kurt say, and Charlie's eyes swiveled over to the door without his permission.

The man standing there was... attractive, to say the least. Dark curls, gelled to look professional in the morning but coming undone now. Hazel eyes that Charlie would be willing to bet had a lot of green in them. Dressed well enough, but not exactly the way most people who walked into this office were. Ignoring the hideously-triangular eyebrows, he was _very_ cute, a little bit shorter than Kurt but obviously well-built beneath the winter gear.

"Took you long enough," Kurt said, loud enough for both the unknown man and his nosy assistant to hear.

"I do have other things to do besides be at your beck-and-call, you know. I actually happen to run a very successful business. More successful than this crappy magazine you work for, at least." The man (Charlie would have to learn his name) placed a novel's worth of papers on Kurt's desk. "They're all there, all signed."

"Thank you, Blaine. I really do appreciate this. I'll get them notarized after work." Kurt placed the papers in the empty accordion folder Charlie had been wondering about and returned to his work, obviously expecting this Blaine fellow to show himself out.

"Do you have coffee in this place?" Blaine asked, and Kurt looked up as though he was surprised Blaine was still there. Wow, he knew his boss too well.

"Charlie, get Blaine some coffee," Kurt ordered, and this man was obviously both the person Kurt had been waiting for and the person who had Kurt on such a short temper, because the fashion critic _never_ ordered his assistant around like that.

"Cream and sugar?" Charlie asked, not even bothering to close his Solitaire game as he stood up from his desk.

"No, thank you, black is fine." Blaine took a seat in front of Kurt's desk, dragging a long-suffering sigh from his boss and earning himself an annoyed glare from Kurt.

"Is there a reason you're making yourself at home in my office?" Charlie was glad the coffee maker was quiet, so he could still hear their conversation.

"I told you, we're getting them notarized together. Besides, I bet I can speed up the process a little, if you know what I mean." Charlie certainly knew what he meant, and it seemed Kurt did too, by the annoyed look Blaine got.

"Did you know that bribing a city official is against the law?" Kurt asked, and Charlie snorted, drawing the momentary attention of both the men in Kurt's office before they returned to their conversation.

"So it sitting on the base of the Balto statue." Charlie had no idea what this referred to, but Kurt was clearly irritated by the memory. Blaine started singing under his breath, his voice a smooth tenor that Charlie immediately loved, and Kurt glared at him.

"That is _not_ our song," Kurt said vehemently.

"Of course it is," Blaine replied, not intimidated by his boss. Honestly, judging by his expressions and reactions, Blaine clearly knew (maybe as well as Charlie does) Kurt's just a kitten who thinks he's a tiger. "It was our first dance, in case you forgot."

"We're not actually married either." Ah, so this was the accidental husband. Good to know.

"Here's your coffee." Charlie made to leave the office, and Kurt held up a hand.

"We both know you're listening to the conversation anyway, and you're terrible at subtle," Kurt explained, looking at Blaine but pointing towards the other chair in the office. "Also, I have a meeting that you're not allowed to be privy to." This was directed towards Blaine.

"Legally, I am. Confidentiality always loses to a marriage license." Blaine sounded smug, leaning back in his chair and seeming very comfortable. "Besides, I've got nothing better to do."

Kurt muttered "I bet" under his breath, which Blaine either didn't catch or didn't care about, before returning to his work, trying to act as though he was ignoring his husband. Charlie could tell he wasn't though, and the assistant was having a much more fun time watching his boss sneak glances at his husband under his lashes than he was playing Solitaire. There was definitely something between them, he just wasn't sure what it was. Definitely attraction, maybe even something more.

"You're not very good at subtle, you know." Blaine's voice broke the silence. He had clearly noticed the glances Charlie had seen, even though he was glancing out the window at the admittedly amazing view of Times Square. Kurt huffed, caught.

"So I've been told." Charlie tried to stifle his giggles and failed, because, yeah, his boss had been told that so many times. Even by his own family. Blaine gave him a look out of the corner of his eye and smiled. Kurt refused to look up from his designs, but he was blushing slightly.

See, this exact moment was a great example of why Kurt would be lost without Charlie. He saw Kurt's boss enter the hallway out of the corner of his eyes and immediately jumped up and headed for the coffee maker, remembering to close his Solitaire game. "Kurt, hun, your meeting is on it's way." He was very careful not to point down the hall, but he jerked his head towards the man walking down the hallway.

"Would you mind giving us a second?" Kurt said to his husband. The question was very obviously rhetorical, but Blaine answered.

"Yes, I would matter, as it happens." His boss' husband didn't budge an inch, and Kurt huffed his annoyance again.

"Blaine. Please." Charlie pretended to choke on his spit when Kurt said 'please.' Unless he was trying to wiggle something out of Sam, he almost never begged anyone for anything.

"Not a chance." Before Kurt could reply, his boss knocked on the clear door.

"Good afternoon, sir," Charlie said politely, opening the door and handing Mr. Montgomery his normal coffee: one cream, five sugars.

"Hello, Charlie. Is your boss ready for our meeting?" Mr. Montgomery was a very intimidating and serious man, despite the bald jokes that could be made, beady, almost creepy eyes that were capable of boring into your soul and knowing exactly when you're lying. His wire-rimmed glasses were almost always hung crooked on his small nose. His mouth was far too big for the rest of his features, but was actually normal size. He was rather tall, at about 5' 11", and skinny, though he was lanky rather than lithe. What made him intimidating was the superior way he looked at everyone, as well as his position on the Vanity Fair totem pole.

"Yes, of course." Charlie was mentally begging the married idiots in Kurt's office not to argue in front of Mr. Montgomery as he lead the man into Kurt's office, not bothering to knock, and immediately headed back to his desk to observe and send Kurt frantic signals that neither the boss or Blaine would be able to see.

"Why, Blaine Anderson, wonderful to see you." Mr. Montgomery immediately offered a handshake to Blaine, who accepted without standing up. It was a very subtle sign that Blaine considered himself more important, but Mr. Montgomery took it with grace.

"Great to see you as well, Chuck. Nice to have someone to talk to at those stuffy parties," Blaine replied with a relaxed grin as Mr. Montgomery took the seat next to him.

"Well, Mr. Hummel, I'm very impressed your choice of friends." Charlie held his breath until Kurt smiled, taking the comment with grace.

"Actually, Blaine is my fiancé." Both Blaine and Mr. Montgomery (Charlie would never consider him too serious again now that he knew his friends called him Chuck) looked surprised before Blaine controlled his expression.

"I can't say I'm not surprised, at least not truthfully, but I'm very happy for you both. I wasn't even aware you were engaged, Kurt." Charlie raised his eyebrows as Mr. M called Kurt by his name, and Kurt shrugged while his boss wasn't looking.

"I have a tendency to keep my private and work lives very separate." Charlie hid his laughter behind his hand. That was an understatement. At least no one at the office besides him knew about Sam, otherwise this would be _very_ awkward.

"That's an understatement. You're probably the only employee I have that doesn't get involved in water cooler drama." Mr. Montgomery laughed at his very lame joke, and Kurt joined in, his laughter very forced. Blaine just gave his husband a 'really?' look.

"Anyway, Blaine's taking me out to a play and late dinner, he just forgot I had a meeting and came a little early." Kurt, Charlie noticed, was an excellent liar. He would keep that in mind.

"Actually, we could use a business man like him on our new deal." Suddenly, it had become 'our' new deal. It was never 'their' new deal. Apparently, Blaine was great for Kurt's business, even if Charlie had to actually keep track of Kurt's emergency outfits now.

"We could?" Kurt asked for confirmation, sounding shell-shocked.

"We could. I _well_ know Blaine's powers of persuasion," both men chuckled at this," and we're going to need all the persuasion we can get for this deal. Our target is... elusive, to say the least, and the fact that he has consented to several meetings with us and accepted a major party invitation is extremely rare. We were hoping to send in Kurt, because our target is very interested in his segment, but it would be wonderful if you could work as a team." Mr. M sounded so _excited_, Charlie was shocked. Who was this target? Kurt still looked mildly horrified.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," Blaine sounded entertained. "Anything for Kurt." Now Kurt was looking significantly more horrified, and it was directed towards Blaine rather than his boss. Where had his poker face gone?

"We could talk about salary, you're a very valuable asset, and this is a big deal to us." Mr. M was shifting uncomfortably, obviously imagining several zeros attached to the number Blaine would ask for.

"Like I said, anything for Kurt. I would be more than willing to help out just as a favor. Of course, the salary for _Kurt_ working this job, which isn't a part of his contract, might I add, is much more negotiable." Mr. Montgomery's face paled. Charlie was _really_ liking Kurt's husband.

"Well, I-I... of course, Mr. Anderson." Blaine threw the very-nervous looking man a smile before he leaned back against his chair.

"Now, who's the target?" The question no one had apparently been thinking of besides Charlie.

"Phillip Lim. He is the co-founder of 3.1 Phillip Lim, along with Wen Zhou, which was founded in 2004. His clothing line focuses on what he called 'street elegance,' which is looking great, but not as though someone tried too hard on their outfit. His Spring 2012 collection, which is our true target, has a few more high fashion pieces, but still his usual style. It's mostly composed of cool colors paired with neutrals, which is different for spring, but works for Phillip Lim." Sounded exactly like someone Kurt would usually give a lukewarm review, which is plenty for someone with a developing business. Someone who'd been in the business for years... it was a gamble to know what Kurt was say.

"Certainly sounds like something I'd be interested in," Kurt said almost immediately, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief, wiping a few drops of sweat off of his brow for dramatic effect and earning a quick glare from Kurt.

"That would be excellent, Kurt. Try not to reduce him to tears, even though it is an excellent opportunity." Mr. Montgomery smiled widely, and the smile Kurt gave him back was completely fake.

"I promise not to," Kurt swore, placing his hand over his heart and very much playing the man robbed of a great opportunity.

"Outstanding. Now, Mr. Lim is coming to a corporate party tomorrow night. I apologize that it's such short notice for the two of you to work out a game plan, but opportunity can't wait. You'll both be on the list. Show up and charm him, and go from there. I'm not going to monitor you, I'm leaving this operation up to the two of you one hundred percent. Don't fail me." Kurt nodded sharply, and Blaine lazily, obviously relaxed. Mr. Montgomery made to get up, and then remembered his manners. "Congratulations, by the way, to the two of you. You make a wonderful couple."

No one broke the awkward silence until Mr. Montgomery had turned the corner. "Second person to tell us that, I'm starting to believe it," Blaine commented, hopefully sarcastically as he smirked at Kurt, who had let his head thunk dramatically to the desk.

"Not. A. Word." Kurt held up a hand, obviously not happy with this new deal for some reason Charlie couldn't understand.

"Kind of ironic, isn't it? The fact that I'm helping you snag a company to _support_, when you absolutely _destroyed_ my fiancé's. Well, former fiancé's. Really, I'm far too nice. I really should just let you try to get this deal yourself, fail, and get fired. It would serve you right. Lucky for you, I'm kind of enjoying the fact that you're now dependent on me. I wonder if we should even get those notarized now. I mean, we obviously have to keep up the façade. Wouldn't it be easier if it was honest?" So, this is why Kurt thought this was a horrible idea. Charlie was starting to piece together the puzzle, and it was not a good one.

"We're going to the notary. These things take time, and I want to be divorced as soon as possible." Seemed like a logical standpoint for someone with both a fiancé and a husband. "Get up, we're going right now."

"Yes, sir," Blaine said mockingly as he stood up. He looked around for a place to put the coffee cup he was still holding, and Charlie waved in the general direction of the edge of his desk as he returned to his Solitaire game, determined not to lose. He heard two glasses clunk down on the table, and noticed that Blaine had gone to the courtesy to move Mr. M's as well. He approved.

Kurt was waiting impatiently by the door, signature messenger bag, designed especially for him by a young designer who had been sweet on him, slung over his shoulder, and accordion folder clutched tightly in his hands. Charlie's boss always had a tendency to hold whatever was in his hands or the strap of his ever-present (his friends and family sometimes joked it was surgically attached to him) messenger bag.

Blaine walked by, pausing to gesture Kurt through the door he held open for him, and the two headed down the hallway in silence. Charlie snickered to himself as he put the coffee cups away, making a mental note to have them cleaned the next day. There was definitely more to that relationship than what met the eye. He would be sad to see Sam go, but Kurt was definitely interested in this Blaine, even if it would be worse than pulling teeth to get him to admit it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I love Charlie's point of view. He's so astute.** **I hope you enjoyed. I loved the enthusiastic response I got to last chapter, you guys are awesome.**

**I think at this point you realize that their song is** _'Amazed'_ by Lonestar,** but you never know.****  
><strong>

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I meant to post this yesterday (or Thursday), but my days of the week got rather messed up for some reason. I apologize. Have Kurt/Blaine cuteness.**

* * *

><p>"Taxi!" Blaine yelled as the two reached the sidewalk, the first word either of them had said since they left Kurt's office. The tension between the two of them was palpable, especially since Blaine was extremely right when he had said Kurt was now dependent on the tycoon for his career.<p>

"Do you know nothing about this town?" Kurt asked as no less than five taxis passed them. Letting out an ear-splitting whistle, a taxi pulled up almost immediately, a young kid (probably college-age) in the driver's seat.

"401 East 34th Street," Blaine instructed the driver. Kurt got in the backseat, clearly expecting Blaine to sit in the front, so the tycoon relished the annoyed expression on Kurt's face when he climbed into the back next to him.

Walking to the 24-7 NYC Mobile Notary from Kurt's office at Vanity Fair would only be about seven minutes. In a taxi, just before rush hour began, it would be far longer, especially considering 42nd, the easiest way to get to the east side of the island from Times Square, had some of the worst traffic in New York. Now _that_ was saying something.

Blaine wondered how many stories the taxi driver had heard that was far weirder than theirs. "I still don't see why you're insisting on going to the notary now. "Do you really think getting unmarried is the best idea while I'm playing your fiancé?" Blaine asked, just trying to irk the short-tempered an.

"Yes. I'll get the deal done, you'll look pretty, we'll 'break it off,' I'll go into an extreme depression and gain five pounds in ice cream, and we'll all move on." Blaine cracked up laughing at that, but Kurt seemed completely serious. Well, he certainly didn't do anything half-way.

"It's probably not a good idea. I mean, we might have to keep this little play up for _months_, if Lim's hard to crack." Blaine was enjoying Kurt's facial expressions. This one was a mix of pain, horror, and irritation, and Blaine was proud to be the cause of all of them.

"I seriously doubt 3.1 Phillip Lim is stable enough to reject a deal like this. Even if Lim takes forever to accept, we could always go after Zhou. He's probably not _as_ big an influence to how the business is run, considering it's named after Lim, but peer pressure can be useful." Blaine snorted at Kurt's term. 'Peer pressure'. Like they were back in high school.

"Still don't see the point." Kurt didn't reply, and the two remained awkwardly stuck in traffic. "So, how long have you known Sam?" Blaine asked, trying to make light conversation, but probably just pissing Kurt off further by asking about the true reason he wanted this annulment.

"Ten years." Kurt gave a clipped answer. "He was my high school sweetheart."

"Really?" Blaine asked surprised, and Kurt nodded. "Wow, I can't imagine staying with any of my high school sweethearts." Blaine shivered at the thought, mostly for dramatic effect. "I was too idiotic to actually choose someone for the right reasons, even if there really was no such thing as popularity where I went to school."

"I was very shy, very private, so I was obviously very scarce with boyfriends. I chose well, and I chose right." Kurt smiled at the thought, and it was very cute how in love he was with his fiancé. "How was there no such thing as popularity?" Ah, so Kurt was able to make small talk.

"Private school, with boarding. Everyone knew everyone and had formed opinions of them. There was no popular groups, people were mostly just joined by their extracurricular activities. Some extracurriculars were better supported than others, of course, but it didn't exactly make you popular." Kurt nodded as Blaine thought back to his three and a half years with the Warblers. "For example, our Glee club was the highest on the totem pole."

"Your _Glee club_ was popular?" Kurt asked, obviously shocked, and Blaine nodded. "Wow. Mine was the absolute bottom of the totem pole, lower, sometimes, than the A/V club."

"Wow. I can't imagine how horrible you guys must have done in competition to be held in less regard than the most mocked club in history," Blaine teased, shaking his head in mock-shame.

"We were actually pretty fantastic," Kurt said, more reminiscently than defensively. "We won Nationals my senior year, and our lead girl is a Broadway star today. One of our lead guys is a Hollywood director. A dancer of ours started the League of X-traordinary Dancers, I'm sure you've heard of them, and his wife is a part of it as well."

"I hope at least of few of you stayed around Lima to be the bosses of the idiots that hurled insults at you," Blaine said, not particularly _not_ caring, but not vindictively either.

"That I can promise you." The two lapsed back into silence, and it was only a few more minutes before they arrived at the notary. Blaine got out of the taxi first and held the door open for Kurt, who didn't even seem to notice, focused on the building.

"They need to clean their awning," he commented, and Blaine resisted the urge to laugh because, well, they really did. The blue awning was dirty and faded, the '1' almost completely gone from the address. The word 'RIVERGATE' was on one side, faintly, suggesting that either they had gotten the banner second-hand from whatever had been there before, or there was more to the building than the notary, which was very likely, and most of the paint on both of the front thick, white pillars holding the awning up had chipped off.

The couple headed inside, Blaine once again holding the door for Kurt and being ignored. The lobby was painted a dull white, the floors a simple black-and-white checked, and the woman at the desk looked very bored. There was one wing to the left with a sign proclaiming 'Rooms 101-124' and the other held 'Rooms 125-150'. Blaine wondered why the could possibly need so many offices.

"Hello, we're here to see a notary. A Martin Morris, in particular," Blaine addressed the woman, who gave the couple a once-over.

"What a shame. Martin Morris is in room.. 124. Don't break anything, or you're payin' for it." Wondering why the woman had given them that particular warning, Kurt thanked her, and Blaine was already by the door.

"At least it was a short walk." Kurt ignored him... again.

"Hello, Mr. Morris," Kurt greeted the small, balding man sitting behind the cheap wooden desk politely.

"Hello, Mr..." Martin left their names blank, a clear invitation for Kurt to fill them in. The voice from the tiny man was high and nasally and was already getting on Blaine's nerves more than it had when he'd been in the office the previous day.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is my temporary husband, Blaine Anderson." Blaine chuckled at the term, and so did Martin.

"All right, let's get down to business. Do you have the forms?" Kurt handed them over eagerly before sitting down on one of the chairs in front of Martin's desk. Blaine snickered at Kurt's expression when the fashion critic realized these chairs were designed to make customers want short visits, and there were now about eight springs digging into the lithe man's butt. Kurt, however, was not tactless enough to immediately stand back up from the chair, as Blaine had when he'd first sat in that very chair. "Excellent, excellent. You two were married when, exactly?"

"Three days ago," Blaine replied absentmindedly, counting backwards in his head.

"And was the marriage consummated?" the notary asked.

"I don't see how that's any of your business!" Kurt exclaimed, cheeks flushing darkly. All the notary did was confirm that the signatures were legal, a process that would be at most ten minutes, it wasn't his job to actually _annul_ anything. Plus, neither of them were Christian or in any way religious (Blaine assumed).  
>"No, it wasn't," Blaine answered, amusement coloring his tone, and Kurt threw him the most intimidating betrayed look possible. Blaine couldn't believe that he had actually believed the story about their night together. At least he knew now that Kurt really was a screamer.<p>

"Excellent. Write your number on your chart," he nudged the mentioned paper towards Kurt with his elbow, "and I'll call you when I'm done."

"How long, exactly, is this going to take? I thought it was a very simple process." Never tell someone who worked for the city how to do their job. It was very obviously a lesson Kurt had yet to learn.

"However long I think it will take, sweetie. Now, write down your phone number and get out if you want them back at all." Kurt followed the instructions with a huff, before storming out the door. Having expected this, and not having planned to speak with the fashion critic after this encounter for a while, Blaine made no motion to follow him.

"You're not going to write your number down?" Martin asked with a laugh, dragging the sheet back from where it threatened to float off his desk. Blaine laughed as well, ignoring how shrill and irritating the notary's laugh was. "How long should I hold these for?"

"Two weeks would be great if you can manage it," Blaine replied, watching Kurt stomp out of the building and able to hear his piercing taxi whistle from inside.

"Well, he's certainly a feisty one. Was that his whistle?" Blaine nodded. "Impressive. Certainly a useful skill in this town." Blaine nodded again. "I sure like him. Did you see his face when he sat down in my chair?" Blaine nodded for a third time, this one accompanied by a snort. "I was going to warn him, but it was too tempting." Blaine chuckled.

"He has some of the most entertaining facial expressions." They rather fascinated him, if he was being completely honest.

"That he does. Speaking of expressions, what was that one he threw you when you informed me, honestly I presume, that the marriage wasn't consummated." Blaine chuckled at the memory. He would _never_ forget that expression.

"There was an incident with a little too much whiskey, and I lied to him. Told him it had been. Made him absolutely miserable, considering he has a fiancé. Certainly hope he didn't tell the guy." Both men laughed at that.

"I don't know what you're doing with this guy, but good luck to ya," Martin said with a wave.

"Not necessary, but thanks Martin. I might even be seeing you in two weeks," Blaine replied with a grin, before slipping out of the office to the sound of Martin Morris' laughter.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe him! The <em>nerve<em> of that man, to toy with my life like this!" Kurt complained, happily wrapped in Sam's arms as they watched a movie of his choice (_Gypsy_, of course).

"Kurt, baby, calm down. You'll get the papers back from the notary soon, and this whole thing will be over with," Sam replied calmly, stroking a hand down Kurt's back in a way that made his fiancé almost purr with happiness, generally trying to relax him.

"Except for the deal we have to make with Phillip Lim. Deals can take _months_, and pushing a deadline would only make Lim more likely to say no," Kurt cried dramatically, burying his head in his fiancé's arm and taking comfort in the familiar cologne.

"You don't actually have to be married to him to pretend you're engaged, do you?" Sam hadn't exactly been happy to hear that his fiancé's husband was now masquerading as his fiancé's fiancé (and to be quite honest, thinking about it gave him a little bit of a headache), but he had been accepting enough once he realized how worried Kurt was that this would ruin their relationship. He was determined not to let this bastard come between him and Kurt, no matter how hard he tried to do exactly that.

"Of course not, but if Phillip suspects anything and looks into our backgrounds, he can't exactly find out that _we're_ married. It would ruin the whole... well, let's call it what it is: scam." Kurt sounded utterly defeated, and Sam hated hearing his fiancé so upset.

"All we have to do is hold off on the wedding until the deal is made. That doesn't mean you have to be married to him. There's no way to track whether or not someone is engaged," Sam pointed out, and Kurt was unused to him being the logical one.

"You're right, of course." Kurt rewarded him with a quick kiss. The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Sam felt his fiancé tense up a little in his arms.

"What is it?" he asked. Kurt sighed, probably annoyed that Sam knew him so well.

"I was wondering if you would do me a favor," Kurt sounded hesitant, and a little timid, the exact same way he'd sounded suggesting _Under Pressure_ for their high school duet, the very duet that had pushed them together, and Sam out of his bisexual closet (if that was still the term used).

"Anything. Any time. You know that. I would do anything for you, Kurt." Kurt smiled, but it looked a little fake, and Sam couldn't imagine why.

"I was wondering if you would come to the party with me, the one during which Blaine and I have to proposition Phillip Lim. I just... really don't want to be alone with him." Sam kissed the side of his head gently. He could completely understand why the fashion critic didn't want to be alone with someone who seemed determined to destroy his life.

"Of course. Why would that be a problem?" Kurt gave a him a little bit of a guilty look.

"Because you wouldn't be Sam, my fiancé. You would be Sam, my best friend, or even my brother." Sam shook his head.

"Brother is too creepy for me. Besides, if Phillip Lim did really decide to look into you, that could easily discredit you. Best friend would work though." Kurt gave Sam a smile that lit up the room, a hint of teeth peeking through, the very smile that had made Sam first realize he was in love with this wonderful man.

"I love you so much," Kurt whispered, kissing him softly, all compassion and romance with no heat. Sam would try to bring it up a notch normally, but Kurt seemed so upset, and nothing ever came between Kurt and _Gypsy_.

* * *

><p>"Have I told you that you are the most irritating person in the world?" Blaine almost jumped at the familiar voice, but managed to retain his composure, turning smoothly on his one heel to greet his husband turned 'fiancé'. The man standing next to Kurt was not someone he recognized.<p>

"Are you still mad about the notary?" Kurt's colder-than-dry-ice glare was enough of an answer to his question.

"Hi," the man standing slightly behind Kurt said awkwardly. "I'm Sam."

"Ah. I see." Blaine made no motion to shake the hand Sam offered. So this was Kurt's fiancé. He was... okay-looking, the tycoon supposed. Dirty blonde hair combed back for the occasion, the only really notable feature of his face was his mouth, which was _gigantic_. His eyes were a murky green, and relatively uninterested. He seemed tall and not particularly built. To sum up Blaine's impression: Kurt's fiancé was rather... boring.

"You could at least attempt to be polite, you know," Kurt said frostily. "Considering." He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.

"As could you," Blaine said curtly to his husband. "I apologize if I offended you," Blaine said, directed solely towards Sam, and he sounded honest enough, he was sure. However, he was also sure Sam had taken an immediate disliking to him, if he had even been neutral when he entered the room. Blaine wasn't perhaps the monster the mechanic had been expecting, but he was picking up some negative vibes. That was fine by Blaine, he didn't exactly like Sam either.

"No problem." Sam made no other motion to shake hands and neither did Blaine. The three men stood in awkward silence, all observing the room. As friends of an employee (even if one was an employee himself, he wouldn't normally be invited to this important a party), they were some of the first to arrive, and the rest of the present guests had fallen into groups and were chatting quietly, just as Kurt, Blaine, and Sam had been.

"Do you have an idea when Phillip Lim will arrive?" Blaine asked, sounding bored and not looking at the couple.

"Probably soon, or towards the middle of the party, when everyone is just chatting. He'll want to draw no attention, and we want to make him as happy as possible," Kurt replied in the same smooth, detached tone. Sam looked between them quickly and went to wrap an arm around Kurt's waist before he remembered.

"I need to use the bathroom," Kurt informed them before walking away. Sam and Blaine made what most people would call 'significant eye contact', before Sam followed his fiancé. Blaine debated whether or not to give them a private moment... before following them.

"I hate this," he could hear Kurt say through the door. He was getting a few odd looks from the groups at the party, considering he was _clearly_ listening to someone's conversation, but he didn't really care.

"Me too," Sam said quietly. Blaine heard some movement and the familiar sound of a kiss. "We just have to survive until the notary gets your papers."

"I can't believe this happened," Kurt sounded absolutely miserable. So, maybe he was starting to feel a little bit of sympathy for the fashion critic. He hadn't done anything maliciously, he was just doing his job, he wasn't _trying_ to hurt Sebastian. Everything that had happened since, however, had been Blaine's intention. "If I hadn't gotten so drunk that night..."

"Sh, sh. It's not your fault, baby. Whatever happened after you turned in the paper has _nothing_ to do with you being drunk that night. It could have happened to anyone." Sam seemed to be more logical about this whole business than anyone else.

"It wouldn't have happened to _us_ if I hadn't entered for a store-away license. I could have just talked to you about it." Kurt sounded near tears, and Blaine was really starting to feel bad.

"Really? How do you know that? Who's to say that if we'd filed it together, we wouldn't be involved in this? It could have ended up even _worse_, with _both_ of us married to different people, people that aren't as nice as Blaine." Apparently, Sam had more of a kind heart than Blaine had given him credit for.

"Yeah, Blaine's been so _nice_." Kurt's voice was bitter and cold, and Sam just chuckled.

"Try to see this from his perspective. His world fell apart too," Sam reasoned. Blaine was starting to like his husband's fiancé more than he liked his husband.

"I did my job and he decided to ruin my life because of it. Smythe's designs were shit, anyone with eyes would have known that. The little bitch Blaine decided to marry deserved everything that was coming to him. Just because he loved his crap designs more than he loved Blaine, _I_ get my life ruined by a psychotic tycoon with an attitude problem." Blaine's eyes narrowed, and he slid in the door, leaning against the wall before the entwined couple could notice him.

"I would be very careful what you say about Seb if I were you," Blaine replied curtly, making his presence known. Sam tried to push Kurt away (probably out of an urge to be polite), but Kurt clutched at his fiancé. Knowing the fashion critic, he probably would have glared at Blaine had he not been hiding tears. Blaine noticed him try to subtly wipe them away before he answered.

"I have no reason to treat you civilly," Kurt said coldly. "What have I ever done to you? I get it, you're mad about Sebastian leaving you for some Japanese company. I didn't push him out of the country. He was a _wimp_, he would never had made it in the fashion industry, and he was probably cheating on you anyway."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my fiancé," Blaine said darkly. It wasn't until he was already steamed that he realized this was his first anger flare-up in over ten years, and he had no way to control it.

"_Ex_-fiancé," Kurt said smugly. "Didn't you tell me he was already banging someone else to make it up the ladder at his company?" Blaine felt the familiar flashes of anger, but he was beyond controlling himself.

"You want to talk about cheating and favors, you little slut?" Blaine hissed, anger clouding his brain as he saw red.

He was restrained in a flash, faced with a solid wall of muscle holding him back, biceps squeezed tightly by strong hands. Sam's eyes bored into his, not out of control, but absolutely furious, the kind of fury you would never expect out of someone so mellow. "Don't you _dare_ talk to my fiancé like that." Sam's words weren't angry or out of control like Kurt and Blaine's had been, but they were very threatening in a calculating way. "I swear to God, if you _ever_ call Kurt something like that again, I will put you in the hospital for good. Do we understand each other?"

"He deserves nothing less. Did he tell you he let me fuck him like the little whore he is?" In hindsight, these were words spoken in the heat of the moment, anger overtaking him. This hadn't actually happened, of course, but, God, did Kurt get under his skin.

"Don't you fucking talk about him like that!" Sam yelled, pushing Blaine against the wall, obviously ready to follow up on his threat. That, better than anything had before, cleared Blaine's head, and he was suddenly very aware how much stronger Sam was.

"Sam. Sam, stop. Sam!" Kurt called out to the mechanic, walking forward to pull his fiancé off his husband. "Beating him up doesn't do anything. If it did, I would have done it myself a long time ago. Calm down. He just says those things to get under my skin." Kurt cupped one side of Sam's face with his hand, stroking his thumb against the mechanic's cheekbone.

Flickers of anger remained, but Blaine pushed them back watching Kurt calm his fiancé. He never would have guessed Sam had any kind of temper, but apparently Kurt brought out people's protective streaks. "I'm sorry," Blaine gritted out between his teeth. "That was out of line... and untrue." Sam nodded, obviously not having believed it for a minute.

"Just stay away from my fiancé," he ordered. Kurt and Sam shared a look before both went to leave. Once the door had swung shut, Blaine chuckled to himself. Neither of them had actually had to use the bathroom, and for some reason Blaine found this hilarious. He then groaned when he realized his adolescent anger issues had very nearly put him in the hospital, many years later. Maybe Kurt was right. He really did have an attitude problem.

* * *

><p>True to Kurt's prediction, Phillip Lim arrived in the middle of the party to little fanfare. Up until Lim arrived, Sam, Kurt, and Blaine (very particularly in that order) wandered between groups, Kurt chatting everyone up, Blaine being super polite but detached, and Sam giving one word answers. Sam's expression got less and less happy every time he was introduced as Kurt's best friend.<p>

Kurt, it seemed, knew everyone, and by the time they had made a round and Kurt was chatting happily with Mr. Montgomery, Blaine's jaw hurt from smiling at people. It was a familiar sensation that the tycoon usually equated with boring, stuck-up meetings full of people too big for their britches.

This party, however, was quite lovely. A winter holiday party, designed in blues and whites, with hints of various religions spread throughout: a Christmas tree, a Menorah. Most decorations were religion-neutral. There was an open bar (which Kurt had forbid Blaine from utilizing an hour ago), and a band playing music at a pleasant volume.

The band in particular interested Blaine. He had never heard of them, but that was fine because none of their music was original. The Fundamentals covered music, but they covered _everything_, from the Beatles to Bruno Mars to John Mayer. The singer was absolutely fantastic, with an unusually versatile voice, and Blaine was quite enjoying watching their performance while Kurt talked sipping his (virgin) Strawberry Daiquiri. Yes, he'd ordered a cocktail. Kurt had insisted, he had no idea why. However, crossing Kurt after their little incident in the bathroom didn't seem like a good idea to Blaine.

"Hello, Mr. Lim, I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is my fiancé, Blaine Anderson. I work for Vanity Fair magazine and Blaine here..." Kurt trailed off, not entirely sure what his husband did. He knew he was a tycoon, and an unusually rich one at that, but he didn't know what that implied. Blaine hadn't even noticed the fashion designer had arrived.

"I own and run Société de la Vie," Blaine supplied, smiling and shaking Phillip Lim's hand, ignoring the ache in his jaw (and his feet. These shoes were _killing _him).

"Wow. I'm impressed. Vanity Fair has really sent in their top guns. I've certainly heard of you, Mr. Hummel- may I call you Kurt?" Kurt nodded eagerly and Blaine almost rolled his eyes. Almost. "I admire your column, Kurt, and I've definitely worked with a few associates of Société de la Vie."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Lim. Please, call me Blaine." Blaine was so used to playing the polite business man, it was like slipping into a second skin.

"As long as you call me, Phillip, both of you. If you follow my line, you probably know that I don't like to be too formal... which is why parties like this make my skin crawl." Lim looked around the classily-decorated room in obvious distaste.

"Tell me about it," Blaine muttered, getting a look from Kurt and a startled laugh from Phillip.

"A business man like you doesn't like these parties? You would think you would grow accustomed to them." Phillip looked honestly curious, and much more relaxed now that they were having a non-formal conversation.

"Yet, I never have. I go to plenty, I _throw_ plenty, and yet I still loathe them." Blaine didn't, of course, mind the parties, but it was always good to be affable around a client. The easier they talk to you, the more likely it is they want to do business with you. It's simple psychology.

"At least I don't have to deal with another strung-tight business man," Phillip said with obvious happiness. Always agree with the client. It was a rule used in all strings of society, from Walmart greeters to business men like him.

"Now, Mr. Lim, we would really like the work with you at Vanity Fair. We believe your Spring 2012 line would be well show-cased in our articles." Blaine almost shook his head _and_ rolled his eyes. What an amateur.

"Oh, Kurt, hush," Blaine says, acting teasing and hoping Kurt would pick up that it was a serious order. After all, Blaine _was_ the one who knew what he was doing. "That's just like him, trying to get straight to the business aspect. He has a tendency to take life a little too seriously. Don't give me that look, you do! That's what you have me for." Blaine wrapped an arm automatically around Kurt's waist to fit with the ruse, and Kurt stiffened into a board, not realizing the wrap his arm around Blaine's shoulders. At least, he didn't remember until Blaine violently pinched his side and brought him back into the world.

"Of course," Kurt relented with a smile, relaxing marginally and wrapping his arm around Blaine's shoulders. The pose felt far too natural.

"I have to agree with him though," Blaine said, hoping he wasn't pushing the business man too far. "We could definitely do wonders for your business, but only if we got to know your ideas a little better. How about..." Blaine paused, pretending to think but really putting together his game plan with the consequences. If Blaine messed up this deal, it would be the end of any contact between him and Kurt, whether he meant to or not, and the end of Kurt's career. That still sounded tempted. "How about we blow this stuffy joint, and you join us and a few friends, wherever they may have gotten to, for a little party at my penthouse?" Blaine offered.

He had made up his decision. He loved Sebastian more than he loved anything else in the world, even if those feelings were no longer reciprocated, and he would go through with the plans he had already made for the night. A lack of Kurt Hummel in his life would certainly be a change. He was ninety-nine percent sure it would be a good one.

The other one percent of his brain was screaming at him that he was an idiot.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed. To clarify with Blaine's little freak-out at Kurt + Sam: he's been shown to lose control of his temper very quickly and says and does things he regrets (see most of Season 3, Blame it on the Alcohol, and Night of Neglect). This happens to him in this story, because it's in mai head-canons.**

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


	5. Chapter 5

In the end, the only people that came to Blaine's house from Vanity Fair were Kurt and Charlie (who had apparently been at the party and decided to tag along). Sam came, of course, because there was no way for Blaine to get out of inviting him, and Phillip agreed in a heartbeat. There were about ten people waiting in Blaine's apartment, all in designer suits similar to Blaine, Sam, Kurt, and Charlie's. Phillip was the odd man out in slacks and a pressed shirt, and he looked like he was feeling it.

Kurt had been a little late because he apparently needed to stop at their apartment, which he'd called 'Sam's apartment', much to his fiancé's displeasure, to get something. Blaine had raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, and didn't notice the bag Kurt had when he arrived at the house to face his nightmare.

Classical music floated around the penthouse from the built-in speaker system. The men who had been waiting for them were all business associates of Blaine, and Phillip was obviously not impressed with them. Kurt didn't realize until Sam noticed how unhappy Phillip was exactly what Blaine was doing. The words that slipped out of his mouth when he pieced together the puzzle he could not be held accountable for.

"What are you doing?" Kurt hissed, dragging Blaine into his bedroom and hoping the tycoons, his fiancé, his assistant, and Phillip wouldn't get the wrong idea. He vaguely remembered to plop the bag he'd grabbed with pajamas from his apartment on the side of Blaine's bed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaine replied, his face _too_ perfectly blank to be real. Kurt was the _master_ of cracking poker faces.

"Of course you do. You invited over ten men that are the antithesis of Phillip and everything he stands for. You're trying to ruin my deal, and me." Kurt honestly couldn't imagine why Blaine would feel the need to bring his revenge to such intense a level.

"Ding, ding, ding. Really, here I thought you were a little bit slow." Of course, it had only taken Kurt about twenty minutes to realize what was happening, but that was about fifteen minutes too many when it was so obvious.

"Why are you doing this? I know what I've done. I know that you hate me. I know that I said horrible things about the man you're still in love with. I know you every right to want to ruin me, but this hurts you too. Your business credibility will suffer if you lose a deal." Blaine almost snorted. Kurt was so naive when it came to what he did.

"Not a fashion deal. That's not what I specialize in, and no one I work with is going to care about who 3.1 Phillip Lim has an alliance with." Kurt's face dropped as his last viable argument went out the window.

"Haven't you done enough?" Kurt whispered. The fashion critic was blinking like crazy, obviously fighting back tears that were a mixture of frustration, anger, and hurt. "You sent my fiancé's business under, everything he had ever worked for in his life. You forced me to work for a magazine, taking everything I stand for and putting it on the back burner for slightly talented people like Phillip Lim. You set back my wedding. You continually torment me using this glitch that I'm beginning to find suspect. Knowing you, it probably wasn't a glitch. Maybe you had a right to take revenge on me, but you've taken far more from me than I _ever_ took from you." The lithe man was crying now, eyes a stormy blue-gray. Tear tracks betrayed hints of mascara with little black dots. Kurt's eyes were brilliantly striking, and so obviously pained.

"I'm sure I'm not the only person you've ruined without realizing," was all the answer Blaine gave him before exiting the bedroom, leaving Kurt to wipe away his tears and try to muster up the will to walk into Blaine's living room to watch the final crack in his barely-held together life form.. finally breaking it.

When Kurt did find his courage, buried in some deep corner of his mind where it hadn't been used since high school, he walked straight out the door of Blaine's bedroom.. and into his fiancé's chest. Yes, it would have been more romantic if he had walked into his arms, but, to be quite honest, he'd bumped into him.

"Hey, I was just coming in here to check on you." Sam brushed a few strands of Kurt's hair away from his forehead. "What's wrong?" he whispered, obviously seeing the dark tear tracks on the fashion critic's face.

"Blaine's trying to destroy this deal, and he'll succeed because we came to this party. Phillip will see us representing every bit the formal business that he hates and refuse to make a deal. I'll be fired, and Blaine really will have ruined us." Kurt couldn't hold back the tears that just kept coming, burying his head in Sam's chest as a sob wracked his frame. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't have to, there was nothing to say. He pushed Kurt back into Blaine's bedroom to comfort him instead, stroking a hand down Kurt's back in a way that was so familiar it made Kurt cry even harder. He had no idea how they were going to get through this, and neither, he suspected, did Sam.

When Kurt ran out of tears (or possibly the levels of water in his body were too dangerously low for his mind to consider them worth the effort), Sam and he walked back into the party. Every moment they deliberately didn't touch, Kurt hated both himself and Blaine just a little bit more.

Blaine was sitting there, watching Charlie chat up a few tycoons and obviously flirt with one. He glanced over at them as they walked towards the party, and then glanced back as if they weren't worth his time. Kurt gave him the most deadly glare he could muster, but Blaine just smirked. Apparently, the effect was ruined by the raccoon look and puffy eyes Kurt was sure he was sporting.

Kurt took a seat next to Phillip Lim and gave him a shaky smile. "Hello, Mr. Lim. Having fun?" he asked, even though the answer was very obviously 'no.'

"Not particularly," Lim said diplomatically. "I must say, your fiancé's choice in company was.. unexpected to say the least."

"I apologize. He has trouble reading people sometimes, even when it's blatantly obvious. This was probably his attempt to impress you with high-class contacts." Kurt rolled his eyes as if he was very fond of Blaine. His acting must of worked, because Phillip smiled.

"It's quite all right." Phillip paused for a second before leaning back in his chair, sipping a glass of wine that was probably hundreds of dollars for the bottle. "I must say, the liquor is excellent." Kurt chuckled at that, rather forced, and do did Lim, much more naturally. "You must really love him." Kurt looked at him, his eyebrows almost jumping off his head in shock. "I can read people." Obviously, he couldn't.

"I really do." Kurt smiled. He couldn't quite bring himself to say that he was in love, he just left it implied. What he was really thinking was 'I really do want to kill him right now and end all of my problems.'

"It's a shame the party isn't a little more upbeat though," Phillip said exactly what Kurt knew he must of been thinking, and Kurt's heart decided to make residence somewhere in the general vicinity of his feet. Kurt turned his head to the side as one, idiotic tear squeezed itself out of the corner of his eye.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Blaine inserted himself into the chair on the other side of Phillip. "That's exactly what I was thinking." Kurt looked at Blaine in shock, but the other man was too absorbed in entertaining Philip. "I promise they have the ability to let their hair down, so to speak, I think they're just trying to act out how a business deal usually goes. I can change that." With a wink and a smile and pointedly _no_ look at Kurt, Blaine headed for his stereo.

A familiar beat and guitar riff played, but Kurt didn't recognize the song until the lyrics started.

_They told him don't you ever come around here  
>Don't wanna see your face you better disappear<br>The fire's in their eyes and their words are really clear  
>so beat it, just beat it<em>

The whole atmosphere of the room changed in about a minute. One of Blaine's friends ditched the wine and went for the liquor cabinet (which Kurt was closely acquainted with... but he was trying not to think too hard about that). The others stood up and started talking louder and laughing more, the subject obviously having changed. Phillip immediately looks more relaxed at the familiar atmosphere, but doesn't move to leave his chair. Sam looks shocked.

"Much better," Phillip commented, declining one of the anonymous tycoon's offer of hard liquor. "This seems like a lovely place to live," he says, gesturing out the window.

Remembering he supposedly lived here, Kurt replied "it is. The view never gets old." Well, he couldn't imagine a view like that ever getting old. It was even more spectacular from the bedroom, but he obviously wouldn't mention that.

"You know, you're quite a different person in person than you are in your articles, Kurt Hummel. Someone so warm and caring shouldn't be so cold in print. Keep that in mind." Kurt nodded in response to the request, not sure what he should say, and the two fell into friendly chatter for a few songs.

* * *

><p>Kurt's nightmare arrived many songs later (at least forty-five minutes worth). Phillip had, of course, asked some standard questions about Blaine and Kurt's relationship, probably out of courtesy. How long have you been together? How did you meet? So on and so forth. Blaine had been floating in and out of their conversation, but had managed to be around to tell the story of how they met. It was very close to a reenactment of the scene they faked in the park.<p>

Kurt's nightmare: _Amazed_ by Lonestar began playing. Blaine was part of the conversation at the time, and actually was dictating it, but stopped talking when he realized Phillip was staring at him pointedly. "What?"

"Isn't this your song?" Phillip asked, loud enough to turn the heads of other tycoons, an annoyed Sam, and an extremely-entertained-looking Charlie.

"Yes, but we were in the middle of a conversation..." Blaine tried to argue. Neither Kurt nor Blaine wanted to be close to each other or have time to converse unsupervised at the moment. They had a feeling it wouldn't end well for anyone involved.

"No matter." Phillip kept staring at them expectantly, so Blaine stood up and held his hand out to his annoyed-looking husband.

"You could at least try to look happy," he hissed as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, only for Kurt to re-wrap them around his shoulders.

"I'm leading," he replied, fixing a happy look on his face and wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist. Not in the mood to argue with his stubborn husband, Blaine pulled Kurt close, ignoring the way Kurt tensed up. They had to make the lie believable after all.

_Every time our eyes meet  
>this feeling inside me<br>is almost more that I can take_

_Baby, when you touch me,  
>I can tell how much you love me,<br>and it just blows me away_

Choosing a song had clearly come back to haunt them. The crooning voice of Richie McDonald hovered around the silent room as everyone was watching them dance, most content, one very much not so, and one very amused.

_I've never been this close to anything or anyone  
>I can hear your thoughts, I can see your dreams<em>

Considering how many times Blaine had mocked this song or annoyed him with the song, listening to it was getting on Kurt's nerves. Listening to it with Blaine wrapped in his arms...

_I don't know how you do what you do  
>I'm so in love with you<br>It just keeps getting better  
>I want to spend the rest of my life<br>with you by my side,  
>forever and ever<br>Every little thing that you do,  
>baby, I'm amazed by you<em>

Kurt was trying not to think too hard. All they were doing is spinning around in a circle, after all. Yes, they were really close, but people that hugged got this close. Yes, they were technically married. He was in love with Sam, and Blaine was in love with Sebastian. Why his husband was still in love with a man who'd clearly given up on him and moved on, as well as hurting him to the point he took revenge on the 'reason' he left, Kurt had no clue.

_The smell of your skin,  
>the taste of your kiss,<br>the way you whisper in the dark_

_Your hair all around me,  
>baby, you surround me,<br>touch every place in my heart_

Kurt was severely dismayed that Sam wasn't meeting his eyes, his face pained. He had to understand that Kurt had no interest in his husband (as odd as that sounds), they were simply doing this for the deal. The more in love they appeared to Phillip Lim, the easier it would be, judging by the way the fashion designer had been acting. Lim wasn't eccentric, at least not as eccentric as many other designers Kurt had worked with, but he sure was mysterious.

_It feels like the first time, every time  
>I wanna spend the whole night in your eyes<em>

This was the first chance Blaine really had to get a good look at his husband, as crazy as that sounded. Yes, he had noticed, objectively, how someone could theoretically find the man holding him attractive. He didn't realize that it was possible_ he_ found said man attractive until Kurt's tears completely undid any anger he had towards the man and tugged at his heartstrings like nothing else ever had. Now Blaine was noticing how his long eyelashes framed the most brilliantly unique eyes Blaine had ever seen, and how beautiful he looked in the moonlight, pale and fragile like an angel. Kurt's body was toned, but lithe, the arms around him small, but strong. Kurt was a contradiction.

_I don't know how you do what you do  
>I'm so in love with you<br>It just keeps getting better  
>I want to spend the rest of my life<br>with you by my side,  
>forever and ever<br>Every little thing that you do,  
>baby, I'm amazed by you<em>

Charlie was smirking at the couple, and Kurt realized that for the first time they must really look like a couple, dancing to the song that had supposedly made them realize they were meant to be together. He met Blaine's eyes for one moment, but he looked away quickly, unable to name the emotions tumbling around in the hazel orbs. He searched for contact with the green eyes so familiar to him, but Sam was pointedly looking far away from Kurt and Blaine, out the window to the New York City skyline.

_I don't know how you do what you do  
>I'm so in love with you<br>It just keeps getting better  
>I want to spend the rest of my life<br>with you by my side,  
>forever and ever<br>Every little thing that you do,  
>baby, I'm amazed by you<em>

Finally, the song was over, and the two separated quickly, much to jeers from the surrounding crowd. "What, no kiss?" Sam asked, his voice not joking, but tight.

"Yeah, what's with that? We all know you're in love, and we don't care," Charlie piped up, and _he_ was teasing, more than anyone else in the room could possibly know. Sam threw him a look of disdain.

"Are we back in high school?" Kurt asked, placing his hands on his hips. "Honestly. You're acting like it. Next thing I know, someone's gonna shove me into a locker!" The assembled company laughed once they realized he was joking (well, not joking, but making light of the past).

"Well, I'd hate to see anyone shove you anywhere," Phillip piped up, standing up. "It was certainly great to meet the two of you. I'm staying at the hotel right across the street, so call if you want to talk about business, but I think that can be managed tomorrow. Arrivederci, my friends!" The fashion designer headed for the door without another word.

After a look from Blaine, the rest of the tycoons followed (as did Charlie, draped over the arm of one of the tycoons with a rather predatory look in his eyes). Sam, Kurt, and Blaine were left alone in the apartment, a bad situation if there ever was one.

"I suppose you're not coming home." Sam broke the awkward silence, voice tense. Blaine looked surprised, but Kurt shook his head.

"If Phillip's staying right across the street, there's no way. What would he think if he saw me leave from my 'home' with my best friend?" Sam frowned, but he had obviously expected the answer. "I'm sorry, baby," Kurt whispered, walking over to kiss him almost desperately, hating how this whole situation had come between them.

When they didn't detach at the lips for a few minutes, Blaine awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, I'll be... anywhere but here." The tycoon vanished into his bedroom.

"He better not get too comfortable in there," Kurt murmured, and Sam pulled away to give him a questioning look. "I'm a guest, and his husband. He's sleeping on the couch." Sam burst out laughing, wrapping Kurt in his arms and holding him close.

"I really don't like that guy."

"Me neither," Kurt said, but it almost felt like a lie.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too," and that, he knew, was true, and would always be true.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The moment felt far too final.

* * *

><p>Kurt does, of course, end up sleeping in Blaine's bed. "If you hadn't made the joke about us sleeping together last time, I <em>would <em>have let you sleep in here with me," Kurt taunted as he ordered Blaine to the couch, earning a glare from his husband.

Kurt, it turned out, snored, but only in the cute way that was endearing an inaudible from another room, rather than the loud and obnoxious way. Somehow, between the time Kurt fell asleep and the time Blaine headed for his couch, the tycoon ended up sitting at the edge of his bed, watching his husband sleep. Blaine found it rather romantic. Kurt would find it creepy. Kurt would also never know.

He'd been right when he was realizing how attractive his husband was. Kurt was _extremely_ beautiful in an unconventional way, lithe and fragile-looking, yet so strong. His favorite part of Kurt (the glasz eyes) were covered by porcelain eyelids littered with blue veins, but Blaine could still picture them as they were during the party, a vivid blue-green as he held the tycoon in his arms.

Kurt's skin was irresistibly smooth, he could tell just by looking (no, he wasn't creepy enough to touch his husband in his sleep, even in the most innocent of ways). Most of his skin was covered by a t-shirt that was far too big for him (bigger, even, than he would have thought one of Sam's would have been), and flannel pajama bottoms, but he could see most of Kurt's collarbones and one, smooth shoulder thanks to the large neck of the shirt. The temptation to touch and mark Kurt's skin was great.

Blaine wasn't entirely sure what his new-found thoughts meant, but he was sure of one thing: he didn't hate Kurt Hummel anymore. He wasn't sure how he felt about the fashion critic anymore, but he certainly didn't hate him. If he hated anyone it was that obnoxious, overly-protective fiancé of his. Something about that guy rubbed Blaine the wrong way.

It probably didn't help that Blaine was kind of hot for his husband.

* * *

><p>"Good morning," Kurt said quietly. Blaine had been surprised to wake up to the smell of bacon and the familiar sizzle of his grill. Kurt, it seemed, had decided it was his job to make breakfast for them both. A bowl of oatmeal, half-empty, was sitting at the bar with a spoon in it.<p>

"Morning," Blaine returned the sentiment groggily, slumping into the seat at the bar next to the one that claimed the bowl of oatmeal.

"I'm guessing you're one of those people that's cranky in the morning?" Kurt asked, and Blaine just nodded in reply. Talking seemed like too much effort. "Bacon? Eggs?" His nodding was much more vigorous this time. Anything for food.

There was silence in the kitchen as Kurt served Blaine the bacon and eggs, sitting back down to his own oatmeal. He didn't look inclined to eat any more of it, swirling the spoon around the light brown much absentmindedly.

"When did you get up?" Blaine asked, glancing at the clock and wondering why Kurt is awake at seven o'clock in the morning.

"Five. I get up at five every morning," Kurt replied, sounding much more awake than someone who'd been up for two hours at this point should have. Blaine resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. Kurt had decided to stay and make him breakfast?

"Why didn't you leave?" Wrong question. Kurt immediately stood up and grabbed his bowl.

"I can leave if you want," he said quickly, obviously ready to do exactly that.

"Woah, there." Blaine was too lazy to get up and stop Kurt, but his words did the job well. Kurt paused and looked back at his husband. "I was just curious. If I wanted you out of here, I would have asked you to leave by now."

"I don't doubt it," Kurt muttered under his breath, and Blaine kind of figured he deserved that at this point. "I decided to make you breakfast," Kurt said, as if Blaine hadn't noticed, "To thank you for what you did last night."

"You decided to thank me for almost completely annihilating your life?" Blaine asked, peering up at his husband, who was still standing uncertainly by the sink with his oatmeal bowl in his hands, white-knuckling it.

"You didn't. I thought you were going to, and you didn't. So, thank you," Kurt replied, quiet and hesitant. Blaine looked up at his husband for one moment and sighed, allowing himself to slump off his stool, barely catching himself on his legs.

"You are not the person I thought you were, Kurt Hummel." Blaine made sure his husband heard the statement.

Kurt gulped audibly before replying "Likewise." The two stood in silence for a moment, sizing each other up. Kurt broke the eye contact first. "I know you're not kicking me out, but I should go. Sam will be worried, as always." Kurt gave Blaine a shaky smile, heading for the bedroom.

Blaine grabbed the oatmeal dish (still half-full) which Kurt had abandoned on the counter, as well as his own plate, and placed them in the dishwasher. He then retired to the couch, sitting on the arm, to watch as Kurt re-made Blaine's bed with different sheets and changed quickly (Kurt shut the door for this, prompting Blaine to roll his eyes), before giving Blaine an awkward little wave and left. Blaine let himself fall off the arm to be laying against the actual sitting-part of the couch.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he searched through his contacts for some version of redemption. Satisfied with his plan, he sent a call through to a friend. "Alex, yeah. I need a favor..."

* * *

><p>Kurt had to go directly from Blaine's house to work, and Charlie didn't comment on the clothes bag he was carrying. Apparently, Charlie had satisfied his need for entertainment at Kurt's expense the previous night. Maybe it was the melt-steel glare Kurt gave him that prompted the silence.<p>

His day was boring, average, and _long_. Kurt glanced at the phone, waiting for word from the notary or Blaine or Sam, _someone_. No word came, however, and Kurt went about his business as usual, realizing how much he had been slacking because all of the sudden he had a complicated personal life.

By the time Kurt got home, Sam was positively _bouncing_ with excitement. He had been waiting for his fiancé right by the door, and absolutely tackled Kurt with a hug the moment he stepped into the apartment, making him drop his bag. "Kurt! You won't believe it!"

"Sam... baby... oxygen," Kurt managed to choke out, his fiancé's arms nearly crushing him. Once Sam had given him enough breathing leeway, Kurt asked the million dollar question. "What happened?"

"I got hired as a _partner_ at one of the most successful garages in New York. I'm pretty sure it pays better than owning my own small business." Kurt couldn't help but burst into smiles at the news. The world had once again righted itself.

"Sam, that's fantastic!" Now _Kurt_ was crushing Sam, but the taller man obviously didn't care. The two stood in their embrace for a few moments, the rest of the world forgotten, until Sam pulled back with a devilish grin. "What?" Kurt asked, clueless.

"You know what this means?" Kurt shook his head, having no idea what was going on in his fiancé's mind. "We have a wedding to plan." Kurt gave a very un-manly squeal at the news, grabbing his fiancé close again, happier now than he'd ever been, even when Sam first proposed. His emasculating sound was cut off by Sam's lips.

Sam was shocked when Kurt pushed him away. "We're wasting time! We have a wedding to plan!" Kurt went immediately to his phone, to call Carole, his dad, Rachel, Finn, Mercedes, _everyone_! They had a wedding to plan!

* * *

><p>Rachel had been the one to point it out to him, kind, smart, oblivious Rachel. "Doesn't it seem a little weird to you that Sam was randomly handed out a very prestigious job that he didn't even apply for?" she'd asked, and the light bulb had gone off in Kurt's head.<p>

He had one person to thank for this, and he decided to visit him a few days after to do exactly that. He had told his still-excited fiancé where he was going, but Sam was more accepting now that they had suit-fittings and cake appointments already planned.

Kurt knocked on the same huge penthouse door that seemed so familiar now. In a way, he had bonded with the owner of the penthouse, become acquaintances, maybe even friends. For everything that had happened between them, everything was better now, maybe for both of them.

Kurt smiled widely at the tousled version of the tycoon that opened the door. Clearly, he had not been expecting anyone for the day. His hair was un-gelled, curls limp and flying everywhere. Glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, and he was wearing a big dark blue sweatshirt with the name 'DALTON' blazed across the front.

"What do you want?" Blaine asked, and it looked like he could be sick. His nose looked a little red, and he was obviously irritable.

"Well, someone's a little cranky," Kurt said cheerfully, too happy to let Blaine ruin his good mood. "I came here to thank you." Blaine looked at him blankly. "For getting Sam the job as partner at the garage."

"You're welcome," Blaine said, and Kurt reacted quickly as the tycoon tried to close the door in his face, jamming his foot in the door.

"Why are you so moody?" Blaine didn't respond. "Can I come in?" Blaine looked at Kurt for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and opening the door back up, walking into the apartment without a word. "Blaine?" Blaine sat on the couch and looked at Kurt. "What's wrong?" Blaine pointed to the kitchen bar.

Kurt crossed over to the bar next to him, almost afraid of what he would find. On the bar there was a letter, that Kurt thought was probably too personal to read, and pictures with captions. Daikanransha Ferris Wheel. Hamarikyu Gardens. Edo Castle. Harajuku Bridge. Rainbow Bridge. Hachi-ko Statue. Sensoji Temple. There were plenty of pictures, not all of which Kurt bothered to look at, but it was clear where, and who, they were from.

"Sebastian," Kurt said, more of a statement than a question, and he didn't need Blaine's nod for confirmation. "Why did he send you these?"

"I guess he wanted me to be included in his new life. There's even a picture of him in there with his new boyfriend. Ivor. He's Swedish. Blond." Blaine's voice was miserable, and Kurt couldn't imagine how his ex-fiancé could do this to him.

"I can't believe he sent you these." Could Sebastian have thought of something _more_ insensitive to do?

"This is all your fault, you know," Blaine said quietly, but it had none of the malice their previous conversations about Sebastian held.

"Of course it's not. Everyone in the fashion world has to deal with rejection." Blaine didn't say anything. ""Maybe instead of blaming other people for your problems, you should take a look at yourself. If fashion meant more to Sebastian than you did, you're not right for each other. I know Sam means a hundred times more to me than some fabric and thread ever could."

"The last thing I need to hear about is how happy you and your fiancé are right now. Thanks to me, might I add." Kurt huffed at his husband's obnoxious attitude.

"Hence why I came by." Kurt paused, and then came over to sit as far away from Blaine on the 'L' shaped couch as he could. "You... you deserve better than this, Blaine," he said, holding up the pictures for emphasis. Blaine looked thoroughly depressed still. "Blaine?" he asked softly, scooting closer to his husband, close enough to put a hand on his arm.

"I don't think anyone's ever understood me like you have, as crazy as that sounds." Blaine looked up at Kurt with wide, clear hazel eyes, and Kurt knew exactly what was about to happen, what Blaine was about to do. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop Blaine as he leaned up, at least not until they were sharing breath. Only then did he put a hand on Blaine's chest to hold him back.

"I-I have a fiancé," Kurt whispered, the moment feeling too big to be broken. Blaine didn't even argue, slumping back against the couch for a moment before getting up and bringing the thick black blanket he was wrapped in with him. "Blaine?"

"Come with me." He ordered... he didn't _order_ Kurt to follow him, but requested, _pleaded _even. Kurt bit his upper lip as he decided, but eventually he didn't want to cause Blaine any more pain than he'd already been through today, and he followed Blaine out of the apartment.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yay! Nice!Blaine. I missed him. Boo.. sad!Blaine and asshole!Sebastian (is there another type of Sebastian?). Oh well. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Songs used:**  
><em>'Beat it'<em> by Michael Jackson **(yes, it was random. It was the first song that popped onto my iTunes when I was writing it).**  
><em>'Amazed'<em> by Lonestar

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Wow," Kurt breathed, the view one of the most spectacular things he'd ever seen, and he'd lived in New York for a long time.

"Welcome to my personal version of paradise," Blaine replied, and he sounded much happier, bouncier, more like normal. "This is where I come whenever I need to think." Proving that he'd been up on his apartment's roof many times, he ducked around one corner, Kurt following quickly as to not lose him, and plopped on the perfect alcove to sit, protected from the whipping wind and the only part of the roof not coated in snow due to the slight roof it had. Kurt sat next to him, shivering, and Blaine wrapped a blanket-covered arm around him, pulling him close into the combined warmth of too-hot human and fuzzy blanket, prompting a questioning look from the fashion critic. "Relax, I'm not trying to put the moves on you. I'm just keeping you from the cold." Holding himself very ridged and not relaxing into Blaine, Kurt nodded and allowed it. Blaine rolled his eyes.

"So, what are we doing up here?" The two had sat in silence for a few minutes, Kurt taking in the view and Blaine thinking... heaven knows what.

"I thought it was better than being in my apartment, as nice as it may be," Blaine answered with a shrug. This answer satisfied Kurt, who allowed them to lapse back into silence. "So, tell me about yourself."

"What is this, a show circle?" Blaine chuckled, and Kurt tried to ignore how he could feel the vibrations from Blaine's chest, they were so close.

"We could make it one, but that would mean you getting out from under the blanket." Kurt shook his head vigorously (it was _extremely_ cozy under the blanket, and they were on an apartment roof in winter, for Pete's sake). "So, Lima, Ohio. Tell me about it."

"What's to say?" Kurt answered with a question. "It's miserable, cold, and conservative. That town could be defined as my own personal brand of hell or the homophobic capital of America, and I'll be happy in life if I never have to go back." Kurt shuddered at the memories of his old town his stupid brain bombarded him with.

"What about your family?" Blaine seemed full of questions, but Kurt oddly didn't mind sharing, even though he was usually such a private person.

"They come to visit here. My brother and his wife, who happens to be one of my best friends from high school, live in New Jersey, and she commutes to the city almost every day. I see her quite a bit. My dad and step-mom spend most of their time in D.C., because my dad's an congressman. My mom died when I was six." Blaine rubbed Kurt's arm supportively with the arm still wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry," was all he said, but it was enough. "What does your sister-in-law do?"

"Right now she's the assistant to a Broadway director, but she's usually a star. She just hit a bad string of jobless shows." Blaine nodded.

"Have I heard of her?" Kurt decided simply to answer with her name.

"Rachel Berry is her stage name. Rachel Hudson is her married name." Blaine's eyebrows raised, but he nodded, looking out at the skyline instead of at Kurt.

"Hudson?" he asked.

"She's technically my step-sister-in-law, but I really consider her my sister." Blaine nodded again, obviously thinking up questions.

"Tell me about your Glee club." Kurt was starting to wonder how Blaine remembered all these things Kurt had told him during their short little conversations.

"My step-brother and my now-step-sister-in-law were our two lead singers. Mercedes Jones, the R&B singer, was a part of it. Artie Abrams, the guy Mercedes was usually paired with, is a Hollywood director now." Blaine nodded as he recognized the name. "Mike and Tina Chang were both a part of it, the two leads of the League of X-traordinary Dancers."

"You told me that already," Blaine said absentmindedly.

"Another one of our guys, Matt Rutherford, is in the LXD too. Sam was a part of it. I was a part of it." Kurt was running out of things to say.

"That's only nine people. You had to have at least twelve." Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine would remember that.

"We only ever had fifteen members while I was there."

"Tell me about them." Kurt almost argued, but Blaine added, "Not the famous ones. Well, not _just_ them. The others too." Wondering why Blaine could possibly be so curious, Kurt looked at him suspiciously.

"This isn't another plot to ruin my life because I refused to kiss you, is it?" Blaine just laughed (Kurt tried to ignore the fact that he could feel the vibrations again) and waited for an answer. "Let's see: Quinn Fabray-Puckerman, who's a doctor in Chicago with her husband Noah Puckerman."

"What does he do?" Blaine asked immediately.

"We don't ask," Kurt answered mysteriously, having no idea, and Blaine chuckled. "Santana and Brittany Lopez, who live in San Francisco and work as a paralegal team. Lauren Zizes, a minor-league female wrestler. Oh, and another famous one: Rory Flanagan, he's part of-"

"Celtic Thunder," Blaine supplied, showing off his musical knowledge. The two sat in silence for a few more moments, just watching their breaths puff out visibly in the cold air.

"What about your Glee club?" Blaine started shaking his head before Kurt got all the words out.

"I couldn't tell you. We pretty much split up after high school, and I don't think I've talked to any of them since. We were never really close." Kurt nodded.

"Your family?"

"My mom lives in New York, so I see her sometimes. I spent half my childhood with her and half of it with my dad, and then came to New York to get _away_ from my homophobic dad. My step-mother is nice, but she could never fully reign in my father." Blaine said all these things with a cold, factual tone, as if they didn't actually pertain to his life. "My sister, Lila, lives in LA and works as a small-time actress. She's had big offers plenty of times, but she's never wanted to be a star. My brother... who knows. He's kind of a nomad, and he'd tried out plenty of different life styles. He won the lottery, so he certainly has the money to do so."

"How did you meet Sebastian?" Kurt asked. It probably wasn't the most sensitive question he could come up with, but he was too curious for his own good.

"When I was a junior I was with my dad, sort of. I went to a boarding school, in Ohio, actually, that's where my dad lives. I'd spent the entirety of my high school experience there. The school was great, but it was very... restraining, repressive. Sebastian came into school one morning, middle of the semester, and he was a breath of completely fresh air. He'd moved to Ohio from _Paris_. He.. well, he interested me, and that blossomed into more."

"I thought you said you couldn't imagine staying with any of your high school sweethearts." Blaine snorted. Astute.

"He wasn't my high school sweetheart. If we're calling it what it is, he was my high school fuck-buddy." Blaine could obviously _feel_ the surprise radiating from Kurt. "I didn't think he was _alluring_. I thought he was _interesting_, more of a status symbol than anything. It wasn't until we ran into each other when I was at Columbia and he was at NYU that we actually started dating, and we were together from then until.. well, you know." Kurt nodded. He better than knew.

Blaine and Kurt sat on the rooftop for hours, Kurt eventually relaxing into Blaine and letting his head loll onto Blaine's shoulder. They shared memories, things Kurt had never told anyone about his past, all the crazy adventures Blaine'd had in college, everything. They even shared memories of Sebastian and Sam, who shouldn't be a memory, but seems to be in the cold winter air, under the stars.

The two had watched the sun set from Blaine's roof and ignored it, continuing to talk and share. Kurt had just finished telling Blaine about the way Sam proposed when his heart almost stopped at Blaine's next words. "I think I love you." Blaine turned away from the stars to look into Kurt's eyes as he said that, an awkward movement with the way they were sitting. Blaine's eyes started intensely into Kurt's, so intensely that shivers ran down his spine, their lips almost touching. Thinking back on everything that had happened, and the heart-stopping almost-moment that had happened downstairs, it wasn't really a surprise.

"I know." Kurt paused, not wanting to break Blaine's heart with what he already knew, but he had to say it. "I'm getting married."

"I know." Blaine didn't say anything else, petting Kurt's hair with his hand as they looked at the stars. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief at how badly that _hadn't_ gone.

"I wish I could say it back," Kurt whispered.

"You could," Blaine whispered back.

"I love Sam."

"I know that."

"I don't think you can love two people at once," and those were the words that broke the spell.

"We should go back downstairs. It's late. They'll lock up the building soon," Blaine said, his suddenly-loud voice a sharp contrast to their whispered conversation. At Blaine's words, Kurt reluctantly got up, leaving Blaine's warmth for the nip of the winter air. Blaine got up with a groan, ushering Kurt back downstairs with a wave of his blanket and making Kurt giggle.

"I should go," Kurt said as he tried to walk past Blaine's door, having left nothing inside the penthouse this time, only to be stopped by Blaine's hand on his arm.

"I have something for you." Kurt gave Blaine a wary look. "Relax, you'll like this, I promise." Feeling as though he was about to be duped, but having no other choice, Kurt followed Blaine into the apartment. His heart decided to take residence in his throat as Blaine walked into his bedroom, but almost burst out of his chest when Blaine returned with the annulment papers.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Kurt ran across the room, composure forgotten, grabbing the folder the papers were in with one arm, and Blaine in a hug with the other. "Thank you!" Kurt exclaimed again, before he realized he was very much up-close and personal with the man who had just confessed his love for the fashion critic, and stepped away.

"It was nice being married to you." Kurt smiled at his husband, taking a look at the papers and seeing they were already notarized.

"Ditto." There was an awkward moment where the two smiled at each other before Kurt stepped away, once again breaking the spell. "I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," Blaine replied. "I think I've had my fill of you for at least a week." Kurt chuckled at that. Funny how a person he'd never met before in his life had been the main fixture of it recently. They headed for the door, the air between them companionable, but awkward nevertheless.

Blaine was just about to shut the door behind Kurt when he was seized with a sudden urge to answer what Blaine had said on the roof. "Blaine?" The door stopped, but did not re-open. "I think I love you too."

"I wish it was enough," Blaine whispered, but Kurt could hear him in the empty hallway.

The door shut.

* * *

><p>The papers.<p>

There they sit, taunting him.

By all rational thought processes, he should have returned them by now.

He should be single. Maybe even married to Sam.

Yet there they are, on Rachel's kitchen table, torturing him.

He can't for the life of him think of a reason he hasn't filed them yet. Maybe one: the look in Blaine's eyes just before he leaned forward to kiss him, the raw emotion and love that seemed to go far beyond anything he'd ever shared with Sam.

This idea was, of course, preposterous. Blaine was lonely and upset. He didn't love Kurt, the very person who had made him both of those things. He couldn't love Kurt, he wasn't over Sebastian. When it comes down to it, you can't love two people equally. You have to love one more than the other.

Kurt loved Sam.

That being said, Kurt is also hiding from his fiancé at his step-sister-in-law's house in New Jersey. He told Sam that he wanted a little time with his family, and Sam hadn't even questioned it, being the wonderful person that he is. Despite the guilt riding low in his heart, he hadn't told Sam that he had the annulment papers.

There was just something about Blaine that _fascinated _him, far more than it should. Yes, he'd hated Blaine to begin with, hated him with the burning, fiery passion of a thousand suns.

Then he'd spent time with the tycoon and realized they had a lot in common, a lot between them, almost... _chemistry_. Of course, Kurt had then played up the fact that he hated Blaine to make this easier for everyone involved.

It obviously hadn't worked. Somehow, this man who hurt him so badly was the only person he really talked to, the only person that really understood him. Even more amazingly, Blaine felt the same way. Kurt had told Blaine things he'd _never_ told Sam, things about Karofsky, about Finn, about NYADA, about everything.

There was one thing leaning in Sam's favor (Kurt scoffed as soon as he thought the words. There were plenty of things in Sam's favor, the ring on his hand for one): his feelings for Blaine were new and uncertain. He'd never felt that way about Sam, feeling a strong attraction from the moment he was introduced to the club. "I am Sam. Sam I am."

"What am I going to do?" Kurt asked the papers, who stubbornly refused to answer, and Kurt dropped his head into his hands. He changed the subject of his stare from the frustrating annulment papers to his iPhone. His phone blinked insistently, informing him once again of the two missed calls he had from Sam, both of which he consciously ignored.

There was only one person who had never lead him astray.

Kurt clutched at his phone as he listened through the rings. Always the same number, for over twenty years. One ring. Two. Three. Four rings and... "_Hello_?"

"Hi, daddy," Kurt said in to the phone, feeling like a child.

"_Hey, kiddo. Are you and Rachel doing some of your crazy wedding planning_?" Burt found the enthusiasm his daughter (as he called her) and son had for wedding planning endearing rather than irritating.

"Rachel's at work right now." Burt _hmph-_ed. "I... I need your advice, but I need you to promise you won't judge me."

"_Never, kid. Never in a million years_." Knowing his father had never maliciously lied to him, Kurt began to spill the story.

"I wrote a scathing review of the clothing line designed by one Sebastian Smythe about three weeks ago, thinking nothing of it. Apparently, he was so shamed by my fair criticisms of my review that he moved to Tokyo to pursue a job offer. His fiancé was dumped in the process, and he came after me." Kurt paused, trying to organize his thoughts enough to get the story out.

"_Sam always told you to be nicer_." Kurt rolled his eyes, even though his dad couldn't see him. It was the same answer he always gave Sam. "_I don't see where this is going_."

"The ex-fiancé is a wealthy tycoon by the name of Blaine Anderson. He's the one that sunk Sam's company and forced me to join Vanity Fair. That's what postponed the wedding, and when I became too upset about it, I went out and," he winced telling his father this, "got drunk, to be frank."

"_Happens_," was his father's only comment, and Kurt chuckled. "_You're a grown man now_."

"While I was drunk I filed a store-away marriage license. Basically, you fill out one half and within ten days your significant other fills out the second half. Well, there was some sort of mix-up and I ended up married to Blaine. We still don't know how it happened." His father didn't offer any comment. "Since I discovered that and went to confront him, he's dangled this over my head endlessly as punishment. He's kept me waiting, lied to me, almost got me fired from my job. He's done everything he can to torture me."

"_I really don't see where the judging thing comes in_," Burt commented.

"Soon. Despite all of that, everything's only turned out better. Sam has a better job, I may have gotten a major deal for Vanity Fair, and Blaine got over his old fiancé." Kurt gulped, not caring that it was audible to his dad.

"_Still not seeing the problem_." Kurt sighed.

"The only problem is, this all has had three results: Sam and I have grown apart because my life has become complicated, Blaine fell in love with me," his dad interrupted with a sigh and a low whistle, another nervous habit of his, like that baseball cap he's never ridded himself of, "and.." Kurt choked up "and I fell in love with him too."

There was silence on the other end for long enough that Kurt was beginning to think his dad had hung up on him. "_I see where the judging part comes in now_." Kurt gave a weak laugh, still feeling near tears. "_This isn't an easy situation to solve, kiddo_."

"I know." If it had been anyone else but his dad, the comment would have been sarcastic and angry, but now he felt scared and young.

"_Now, I've met Sam and seen you around him. I've never met his Brian guy, but it sounds like you're pretty head-over-heels for him_." Kurt nodded, before realizing his dad couldn't see him.

"It's Blaine, and I _really_ am, but I love Sam more than I can say." Burt sighed, the sound coming down the phone lines as a rush of static.

"_Sam's your safe bet, the one you've known for the longest, your high school sweetheart. Blaine's a wild card, someone you don't know all that well, met within the month, and have no history with. Yet, you have a strong connection with him. Stop me if I'm getting anything wrong_." Kurt didn't comment for long enough to satisfy his dad. "_I don't know what's the right thing for you, but I think you should go after Blaine_."

Kurt actually did the dramatic, straight-out-of-a-movie, over-the-phone-shock move, taking the phone away from his ear, looking at it, and then returning it to his ear. "You think I should go after Blaine?"

"_Yep. Call me crazy, but, by the sound of it, you and Blaine sound just like me and your mum. I'd been dating another girl for a long time and was considering proposing to her when I met your mom. I agonized between the two, but I had a feeling I would never feel about Chelsea, the other girl, like I did about Lizzi. I will never feel for anyone the way I felt for your mom_." Tears were dripping down Kurt's cheeks unbidden as he listened. He'd never heard this particular version of the story. "_I know I romanticized it a little for you when you were a kid, but that's what happened._"

"What about Sam?" Kurt asked, still feeling lost and not wanting to hurt his fiancé.

"_Kiddo, when you're in love, you don't sweat the small stuff._" Kurt's phone beeped, and Kurt groaned. "_Is that Sam_?"

"I think so..." Kurt pulled the phone away from his ear again to look at the caller ID. Charlie. "Dad, can you give me a second?"

"_You called me, kiddo_." That, of course, was a 'yes', and Kurt knew it.

"What's up, Charlie?" he asked once he switched to the other line.

"_We got it. Well, you got it. Well, you and Blainey got it, more accurately. Phillip Lim just signed a Vanity Fair contract with a smile and cameras._" Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank whatever's-up-there."

"_You should probably call Blainey to thank him_!" Charlie teased, and Kurt hung up on him.

"Hi, dad. It was Charlie, telling me I'd gotten a deal with a fashion designer Blaine helped me sway."

"_Congratulations, kiddo_." Kurt smiled. His dad had never quite understood his fashion obsession, but he tried his best to be supportive, always.

"Of course, the news had to be accentuated with Charlie's regular dose of Blaine-teasing." Burt chuckled at that.

"_Charlie, the little irritating brother you always wanted_." Kurt rolled his eyes. Yes, he loved Charlie very much, but he couldn't imagine growing up with the monster.

"I never wanted a little brother."

"_I know_." Both Kurt and his dad chuckled at that. Kurt had always wanted an _older_ brother, someone to protect him and be a shoulder to cry on. His own intervention had seen to it that he got exactly that, in the form of the person he_ least_ wanted to have as a brother at the time. "_Just you and me. We did all right, don't you think_?" Kurt laughed, remembering his dad's wedding speech and knowing it wasn't a serious question.

"We were a disaster," Kurt said seriously, and Burt chuckled.

"_Yeah we were_." There was silence on the other line. "_I see a comeback coming on_." Kurt smiled.

"I think our comeback started when I pushed you towards Carole at that parent-teacher conference night." Burt laughed at that.

"_Darn right it did_." Kurt had probably laughed more during this conversation that he had in the last three days, most of which were sent staring at the stubborn annulment papers. "_Are you still married to this Blaine chap?_"

"Yes," Kurt answered, remembering not to nod to his invisible audience this time.

"_I suggest you stay that way_." Those were his dad's last words for the day, as Kurt's answer of "I'm still not sure, dad" was met by the dial tone.

* * *

><p>When Sam arrived home for a late meeting just in time for dinner, there was fresh gumbo sitting in a pot on the stove (one of Sam's favorite meals) and Kurt was standing in the living room, staring directly at the front door, clutching the annulment papers in his hand. Sam sighed, having wondered if this day was coming for a while.<p>

"We need to talk." Sam nodded at Kurt's words, dropping his briefcase, sitting at the kitchen table, and gesturing for Kurt to do the same. "Aren't you hungry?" Kurt asked, not moving an inch.

"Not especially at the moment." Only once Sam had gestured to the table again did Kurt sit.

"I got the annulment papers back today." Kurt always started out with the obvious when he was nervous.

"I see that," Sam said calmly. Kurt looked very guilty.

"I just lied to you." Sam raised an eyebrow. "I got them back three days ago, when I went to go visit Blaine to thank him for calling in a favor and requesting you were hired at the job." Sam nodded. He'd figured the randomly amazing job had been the work of the rich, influential tycoon, but he'd been hoping it was something of a while flag.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Sam decided to cut to the chase, and Kurt looked at him in shock. "I may be a bit dim, but I'm clever enough to know when I've lost."

"You're not dim, Sam," Kurt said automatically, as he had for many years whenever Sam called himself stupid, as he had all through high school and college (especially during finals). It was so familiar, so domestic that something tightened in Sam's chest.

"You avoided my question," Sam pointed out, knowing the deflection hadn't been intentional, but Kurt would start purposely deflecting soon.

"I.. I love you too," Kurt said hopefully, as if he was waiting for Sam to try and convince him to say.

"That's still not an answer," Sam said, letting annoyance creep into his voice, and Kurt sighed.

"Yes. I love him." Kurt didn't look Sam in the eyes as he said it.

"I thought you might." Kurt looked at Sam in shock. "He may have driven you up the wall, and done all of these things to hurt you, but there was more passion in your eyes when you ranted about him than there has ever been when you looked at me." Kurt met his eyes now, expression guilty, and Sam shrugged, trying to act unhurt and knowing Kurt would see through it.

"Sam, I..." Kurt couldn't seem to come up with the words for it. Sam wasn't sure there _were_ words for it. "I wish I had thrown Sebastian Smythe's designs in the trash can where they belong." Sam chuckled as Kurt placed his head on the kitchen table, probably hiding tears.

"No, you don't. Well, you shouldn't." Kurt looked up at Sam disbelieving. "If he makes you happy, then you deserve him."

"You make me happy," Kurt pointed out, and Sam shook his head.

"He makes you happier." Kurt looked defeated, a lone tear rolling down his porcelain cheek. "I want you to be happy Kurt. You deserve whomever makes you the happiest. All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. Do I wish you could be the happiest with me? Of course. Do I think that's realistic? I know it's not." A few more tears started streaking down Kurt's face. "Please don't cry.

"How could I not? You're the most amazingly sweet and sensitive guy I've ever met. Why can't I just take what's good for me and be happy?" Kurt asked dramatically, looking to the sky for answers for the first time in his life.

"He's good for you too, even if he drives you up the wall sometimes. There's such a thing as romance that's too mellow, too vanilla, and I think we have that." Kurt looked at him, not even bothering to conceal the tears dripping down his face and tracing patters down his neck now as well. Sam felt tears welling up in his own eyes at the sight.

"I love you," Kurt whispered, and Sam's defenses cracked.

"I love you too, but we missed our moment." Kurt walked over from his chair to Sam's in a heartbeat, climbing into his fiancé's lap to hug him and bury his tears in the mechanic's shoulder. "Don't be afraid to go after what, and who, makes you happy," Sam whispered into Kurt's hair.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Kurt wiped his tears and climbed out of Sam's lap. Sam took advantage of his ex-fiancé's momentary distraction to clear the evidence of his own tears, standing up himself. The two looked at each other for a moment before Kurt twined his arms around Sam's neck and pressed his lips to the mechanic's chapped, familiar ones. The salt tang of tears was still on Kurt's lips as they kissed, and Sam had a feeling Kurt was crying again. The mechanic kept the kiss short and relatively chaste, a proper goodbye.

Lo and behold, a few more tears had escaped Kurt's eyes, but Sam brushed them away for him as he held the fashion critic's fragile face between his hands. "You know I love you," Sam said quietly.

"I love you too," Kurt replied, not making any move to pull away. "I guess we have a wedding to call off, huh?"

"What are we doing wasting time?" Sam mimicked Kurt's excitement about planning the wedding. The joke was a horrific flop that hurt both of their hearts. "Your father's going to shoot someone."

"I already told him," Kurt said quietly, extricating himself from Sam's arms. Sam allowed him to move away.

Kurt looked longingly around their apartment, the one they'd had since their freshman year of college, as if trying to fix every memory they'd made their in his mind. Sam tried not to let those very memories overwhelm him. He would have to sell the apartment in order to move on. "I'll pack my stuff," Kurt said quietly.

"Go to him." Sam's words surprised both occupants of the room. "Tell him the good news. You can come back and get your stuff later." Kurt looked skeptical. "This isn't going to be the last time I see you, Kurt. I would miss you too much. Even if you don't want to, I will force you through the awkward friend stage." Kurt laughed.

"I'll miss you too." Kurt leaned up to kiss his friend again, this time an open-mouthed and thoroughly dirty kiss that shamed the sweet goodbye they'd had earlier. "One more time for the road?" Kurt didn't have to explain. Sam had been thinking the exact same thing.

"We shouldn't," Sam said with a sigh, pulling away after giving his ex-fiancé a light peck. Kurt pouted for a moment, even though he must know Sam's right.

"I know," he admitted once he realized the pout wasn't going to work. "I'm going to go see Blaine now." Kurt spoke as though Sam might spontaneously combust at his words, but he was fighting a smile.

"I figured, considering I told you to do it. Now, go! He deserves to know that he won the greatest prize of all." Kurt pouted at Sam again.

"I'm no trophy." Sam rolled his eyes.

"I didn't say 'trophy'. I said prize, and you definitely are one." Kurt smiled, giving his friend a hug and trying not to linger too long in the familiar warmth and strength of Sam's arms. "Go on," Sam said with a smile, and Kurt left.

Once the door shut, Sam sighed, letting his back slump and the smile fall from his face. It hurt more than he liked to admit that Kurt had chosen Blaine, but he had suspected it was coming. Grabbing himself a bowl of gumbo, he relished in the wonderfully spicy taste and made a mental note to make Kurt cook for him whenever he came over.

"You are a prize," Sam said, mostly to himself. "You're just not my prize anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Bye, bye minor couples! HELLO KLAINE! XD Anyway, there's only going to be one more chapter of this fic. Maybe two. Maybe even three. This is kind of a work in progress now, as this is the last chapter I have fully written. I plan to finish it tonight, don't worry :)  
><strong>

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here is your next chapter. A little late, but considering I'm writing as I go now, not too too bad. Plus, my internet was down for the entire weekend, so I didn't have access to the movie this was based on.**

* * *

><p>Kurt knocked for a third time on the wide doors to Blaine's apartment, this time thrilled. The first time he'd been nervous, the second time happy with hints of being apprehensive, this time he was floating on air. Well, it felt like that. He wasn't <em>actually<em> floating on air, he'd checked.

The door didn't open. Annoyed, he knocked again. Did Blaine even have a peephole? Yes, apparently, and he wasn't happy to see Kurt again.

"Blaine, open up." Nothing. Rolling his eyes, Kurt tried again. "Blaine! I have good news! Please open the door!" Still nothing. Annoyed with his still-husband, Kurt absolutely battered his fist against the door, ignoring the sharp shocks of pain from his knuckles. "I'm not leaving until you open the door!" Kurt yelled, not caring who heard him.

"Go away," Blaine sounded as miserable as he had when Sebastian had sent him those pictures. Kurt just continued to slam on the door, ignoring as one of his knuckles, chafed by winter, started to bleed. He was suspicious the others would soon follow suit. "Kurt, I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, I want to talk to you, and I have something important to say, so open the door!" Kurt yelled, continuing to bang on the door as another knuckle split and bled. Kurt noticed the blood streaks on Blaine's oak door with satisfaction. Unfortunately, this insistent knocking lead to Kurt almost punching Blaine in the face when he flung the door open.

"What?" Blaine snarled, obviously on a short temper and upset about seeing the man who'd broken his heart in multiple ways.

"I love you." Kurt had an eloquent speech that he'd planned on the taxi ride over, with build up and an explanation that he and Sam had decided to part ways. The speech was so much more articulate and careful than the first words that popped into his head, which, of course, were the ones that tumbled out of his mouth.

"I know that. You told me that the last time you were here. It doesn't make a damn bit of difference." Blaine was obviously preparing to slam the door in Kurt's face.

"It makes a difference now," Kurt said quickly, and Blaine paused. "Can I come in?" Blaine sighed, but left the door open as he walked into the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?" Blaine asked, something akin to rage in his voice. Kurt realized that he thought the fashion critic was taking revenge on him now that he had the annulment papers, or something equally as dumb.

"I called off my wedding... or it got called off on me. Let's call it what it is: I got dumped." Blaine looked cataclysmically shocked. It was almost funny. "I realized I was more in love with you than I was with Sam, even though it didn't make a lot of sense. He already knew, because he knows me, and he wished us happiness." Blaine's face closed off in a second.

"Do you think this is funny? Torture the tycoon that made your life miserable by dangling the one thing he wants but can't have over his head," Blaine seethed angrily, obviously not thinking clearly. Kurt sighed.

"Do I look like I'm kidding? Well, I'm not. Go ahead, call him. Call my dad, who helped me make the decision to choose you. Call Rachel, who'll castrate you for ruining my wedding plans. I'm not kidding Blaine. I. Chose. You." Kurt didn't have a moment to react before Blaine pushed him up against the counter and was kissing him like his life depended on it. Kurt moaned, caught off guard, as colors burst beneath his eyelids and a fire was set under his skin, Blaine's hands far, _far_ too warm on his waist.

Blaine pulled away far too soon for Kurt's liking. "You didn't push me away." Kurt just smiled.

"I think my husband is allowed to kiss me." Shoot, where had he dropped those papers? "Crap, this would be a movie-perfect moment if I hadn't left those damn papers in the hall." For some reason, this simple memory fail was hilarious to both of them, and the couple doubled over with laughter.

"I think this is pretty movie-perfect already," Blaine was with a smile. "I can't believe you didn't file those."

"Neither can I," Kurt admitted. "I meant to for so long, but somehow that felt like letting go of you, and I realized that wasn't something I wanted to do. I never want to let go of you," Kurt promised, looking into Blaine's hazel eyes, which were bursting with happiness. Kurt was sure his eyes looked the same.

"Spend the night with me," Blaine blurted out unexpectedly, and Kurt raised both of his eyebrows.

"Well, someone's certainly looking to get the rebound sex," Kurt teased, not quite sure how Blaine would react, but he knew it would be great. Hell, he didn't care if Blaine dragged him into the bedroom right then to have his wicked way with the him.

"I didn't mean it like that. Just.. stay. Please?" There was an air of vulnerability in Blaine's voice, familiar but rare, as if Blaine was expecting to be rejected. Kurt nodded, having planned to do so anyway.

"Can my clothes not end up on a balcony this time?" Kurt asked, trying to lighten the mood, and the couple cracked up again.

* * *

><p>Kurt hadn't brought any of his moisturizing products, or even pajamas, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. He'd taken a quick shower, not having done so in the past three days he was so stressed, and there was a pile of clothes resting on the bathroom counter when he was done. The fashion critic had the sneaking suspicion that his husband had also taken a peek at him in the shower. He didn't mind terribly.<p>

When Kurt came out of the bathroom, dressed in clothes that he was sure were Sebastian's, Blaine was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, staring at the door expectantly in a Dalton t-shirt and boxers. The way Blaine was looking at him was making him feel remarkably shy, more exposed than he'd ever felt even though he was clothed.

"Hi," Kurt said quietly, not sure what else he was supposed to say. For Pete's sake, he wasn't some timid virgin, he shouldn't be acting like this. Why did everything seem so new with Blaine?

"Hi," Blaine replied, just as quietly, and Kurt realized the tycoon had no idea what he was doing either. It gave him confidence, enough confidence to climb on the opposite side of the bed and take the hand Blaine offered him. They must have looked like five-year-old's, lying on a bed holding hands, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care.

Blaine was the one who made the first move eventually. Well, it wouldn't really be classified as a 'move'. The tycoon pulled his husband close, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and nuzzling into his chest, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and designer perfume. Holding Blaine felt so familiar, even though he'd only ever held Blaine on that one night.

"Did you know I had a dream about doing exactly this last night?" Kurt didn't reply, because there was obviously no way he would have known what Blaine dreamed of the previous night. "This, and nothing else. For several horrible moments I thought you had completely ruined my libido." Blaine's words should have been an insult, but they were so _Blaine_ that they were funny.

"Well, I certainly do hope you rediscovered it. Perhaps when you spied on me in the shower..." Kurt said, letting his voice sound perfectly blank.

"Guilty as charged," Blaine commented, no remorse in his tone. "I just couldn't help myself." Kurt giggled, not at all concerned by his husband's minor voyeurism.

"I don't mind," he whispered, pressing his lips to his husband's, thrilled that he could kiss Blaine without guilt (well, he shouldn't be guilty. He still was though. Sam was far too nice for his own good). Blaine moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer and rolling them so the tycoon was on top. "Blaine... we're getting... carried away," Kurt gasped out against his husband's lips between kisses.

"You're right," Blaine replied, rolling off of Kurt. The fashion critic frowned at the lack of contact, even though _he_ was technically the one who'd asked him to stop. He had discovered he preferred the state of kissing-Blaine to any state of not-kissing-Blaine.

"I didn't say you had to stop," Kurt murmured, but the moment was rather broken. Now that the two were separated, awkwardness hung in the air. "It's cold in here," Kurt said under his breath, and Blaine immediately hopped into action, grabbing the same blanket they used on their excursion to the roof and draping it over Kurt. The act held a kind of tenderness that Kurt knew Blaine had in him, yet surprised him every time. "Thank you."

Blaine offered no response, hopping back into the bed beside Kurt and making him bounce a little. The tycoon draped the checked blanket over himself as well, bringing them closer again. Somehow, whenever they were touching, Kurt forgot all his nerves and uncertainties.

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand again, and as they twined Blaine's thumb ran over Kurt's engagement ring from Sam, which he hadn't yet thought to take off. "You know..." Blaine began in a drawled tone, and Kurt was scared for one horrible second that Blaine would accuse him of trying to trick him again, or be angry, "we should probably get new rings, considering we're both wearing the one's our ex-fiancé's gave us." Kurt was surprised to hear Blaine was still wearing Sebastian's ring, but he realized it truly hadn't been that long since his life had been irrevocably changed by some idiot at the marriage bureau.

"We should,' Kurt whispered, excited about the prospect. Call him shallow, but there was nothing bad he could see about being in love with someone who happened to be incredibly rich. Speaking of which... "I'm quitting Vanity Fair."

"Are you?" Blaine sounded uninterested, but Kurt knew he wanted to hear the story.

"I hate it there. My creativity is stifled beyond belief. I'm restarting on my blog." Kurt waited patiently for far too long to hear Blaine's response.

"Is there a reason you're telling me this? Not, of course, that I'm not interested in what you've decided, because I am, but that seemed kind of.. random." Probably to the outside observer Kurt's sudden statement would seem random. However, Kurt didn't exactly want to tell Blaine that the connection had been his money.

"No, not really. I just wanted to get it out there." Clearing the air would have been a better lie. After all, it had been Kurt's blog that started all of this. There was big chance that Blaine never wanted to hear of it or see it again.

"All right," Blaine replied, but something still seemed a little off.

"Blaine...?" Kurt started to ask, but Blaine began talking before he could finish his question.

"You want me to fund the very blog that ended my engagement, and you don't even have the guts to say it." Blaine sounded unreasonably angry, and Kurt was taken aback. Where did that come from?

"I don't want you to fund it. My blog funds itself. I really did just want you to know," Kurt murmured, wondering where all the anger had come from.

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry. I know your blog is perfectly self-sufficient. I guess it's just kind of a touchy subject. Having money's always been a big attraction to guys, and for one horrible moment I thought you were just another gold digger. I should have known better, of course, but it's happened in the past." Kurt placed a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry I got angry. I had anger issues... a long time ago, and whenever you're around they always seem to be worse. Example: almost getting myself killed à la Sam while we were chatting in the bathroom." Kurt nodded in understanding, still having no words to console the other man.

The two sat like that before it occurred to Kurt that the annulment papers were still in the hallway. This would be fine, of course, if there was only the possibility they would be trampled. However, there was always the possibility someone would find them, notice they were signed, and turn them in. "I'll be right back," Kurt said quickly, rushing out of the bathroom and wondering why a sigh followed in his wake.

Kurt quickly grabbed the stack of papers where it had slumped against the wall. Happy that they were there, he quickly carried them back into the bedroom, where Blaine had curled up in a little ball under the blanket. "I though you'd left. For good," Blaine said in explanation.

"Of course not," Kurt said, a little offended that Blaine would think some old anger issues would make him run for the hills. "I just had to get these, because I had the horrible thought that someone would find them and turn them in."

Blaine just shrugged. "We could always get remarried," he pointed out, his head obviously far more logical than Kurt's.

"True, but I think we should do something with them. Burn them, or the like." A grin that could only be described as evil crossed Blaine's face (okay, that's a lie. It could also be described as sexy, but that wasn't exactly specific when it came to anything about Blaine).

"I have an idea."

* * *

><p>This time, instead of politely following, Kurt was being dragged by the hand after Blaine up the stairs. Of course, only his idiotic husband would grab the wrong hand and therefore be pulling his shoulder out of it's socket at the same time. Kurt forgot that, though, when they reached the entrance to the roof, remembering the last time he'd been up here.<p>

"Come on. I know the perfect way to get rid of the papers," Blaine said with far too much excitement, dragging Kurt over to the edge before wrapping the same blanket around both of their shoulders. Blaine picked one of the papers off the top and threw it off the edge, watching it blow away on the breeze.

"Blaine! That's littering!" His husband just chuckled.

"Kurt!" he mocked the fashion critic. "This is New York City!" Touché. Kurt grabbed a handful of the papers and threw them off the building, watching as they intermingled with the snow falling that was getting caught in their hair.

"Okay, this is _way_ too fun," Kurt said with a giggle as Blaine tossed a few more papers over the edge. "I definitely don't think anyone would take the time to find all of these scattered papers and file them." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Kurt, this is _New York City_. The likelihood that anyone would have filed them if they were in a stack two feet from the desk is slim to none." Kurt only laughed because it was so true. Not that he couldn't be NYC rude with the rest of them, but when he'd first gotten to the city it had shocked him how blunt and brusque the people were. "You can tell you grew up in Lima."

"Oh, hush. That's not something that I'm proud of." Kurt threw another few papers off the edge as they talked, and Blaine was doing the same, their fingers occasionally brushing in the most innocent but electrified of ways.

Kurt looked over at his husband to see Blaine giving him a look under his lashes. He knew what the tycoon was thinking, but he was still surprised when Blaine just tossed the stack over the edge, grabbing Kurt and kissing the hell out of him right there. Blaine's kisses sent warmth all throughout Kurt's body despite the cold air, and when the fashion critic pulled away, Blaine's brilliant eyes were there, the flecks of green enchanting Kurt. He giggled at the snowflakes stuck in his husband's eyelashes.

"_Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes_," Blaine sang what he was thinking, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt's lips before leaning back over the edge of the roof to watch the annulment papers fall. They were still floating a few feet below the roof, a few being snatched away by the wind. They fell slowly, drifting from side to side and being lit from underneath by the city. The sheets almost looked like comically too large snowflakes, but it was amazing to watch them fall anyway.

"We should have cut them into snowflakes like you do in fifth grade art class," Kurt commented, watching the annulment papers fall with his amazing husband, watching the very thing that brought them together float away to be crumpled under New Yorker's feet and run over by taxi cabs. Blaine just chuckled at his husband's reply.

"Then they would have looked even sillier," Blaine answered, and Kurt had to agree. He felt like he was about sixteen up here, young and carefree, and he'd never felt so alive... not even when he _was_ sixteen.

"I don't think I've ever seen New York look so beautiful," Kurt whispered quietly. When he had first come to the city senior year, he was amazed by the opportunities, the glitz, and the acceptance. Everything else he took in stride, and he thought that meant he loved New York. Now he understood what it really meant. He is a New Yorker. Every pore, every hair on his body is a New Yorker. He loves the noise. He loves the dirt. He loves the smell. He loves crazy people. He loves every single thing about New York. It made him.

"You know what they say," Blaine muttered in his ear, and Kurt didn't even have to answer before the tycoon knew that he didn't know, and that was just... crazy. "It depends on who you're with."

Kurt smiled brightly at his husband and leaned up to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck as Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, ignoring the height difference and the way the blanket fell from their shoulders, leaving Blaine in jeans and a sweatshirt and Kurt wearing too-big clothes of Blaine's ex-fiancé, both of them exposed to the cold. They spent a few minutes just staring into each others' eyes and sharing breaths before Kurt spoke.

"As romantic as this is, we're both going to get hypothermia." That broke the moment but Blaine just laughed, gathering up the blanket and ushering him back off the roof.

* * *

><p>"Kurt?" Blaine asked from where he was half-cocooned in blankets. Kurt had just gotten back from brushing his teeth. "You're staying here, right?"<p>

"But of course," Kurt said, trying to keep the mood light. He wouldn't leave Blaine right now. He didn't want to leave Blaine _ever_. As crazy as it seemed, what he'd had with Sam wasn't love. It was affection to the point of insanity, but it wasn't like this. There were different _ways_ of loving people, he supposed.

"No, I don't just mean tonight. I mean... permanently." Kurt was struck for a moment by Blaine's word choice, barely second to 'forever'. For a second it seemed absolutely ridiculous that they were making these huge commitments to each other when Blaine had never met his father and he didn't even know if Blaine had siblings.

"Yeah. Yes. I think Sam's selling our old apartment anyway, but I'd love to.. move in here." Kurt was hesitant to mention Sam, but Blaine didn't react and didn't seem bothered. Kurt guessed it was easier for him now that _he_ had Kurt, in the same way Sam hadn't minded him mentioning Blaine when they were still engaged... well, at the beginning anyway.

"We don't have to move so fast, you know," Blaine said quietly, as if reading his mind. "We can take this slow, move in together on our own time. We could even go out and find those papers if you really wanted to." His husband didn't sound like he wanted to do any of those things, but he would do them for Kurt.

"No, I don't. I guess I'm just worried. What happens if something goes wrong, or.. I don't know, we discover initial chemistry isn't enough? That's both of our _lives_ then Blaine." Blaine just chuckled, which made Kurt purse his lips in annoyance. He was in no hurry to climb into bed with his husband now, literally or otherwise.

"You worry too much, love. We actually know quite a bit about each other, and we can hammer out all the details later if you want to. I still vote we stay married. I _know_ things will work out for us, Kurt." It was amazing to Kurt the absolute _faith_ Blaine had in this, as crazy as it seemed. Relationships seemingly weren't Blaine's strong point (see: the bitch he was going to marry and the gold diggers he'd mentioned before), but if the tycoon believed that this would happen, Kurt believed in him.

"You're right, of course," Kurt concurred, climbing into the warm tycoon Blaine had made for himself and sighing in contentment as Blaine snuggled into him. "All this arguing about moving is silly. I haven't even moved in! I shouldn't be worried about moving out." Neither of them protested ignoring the very real issue.

"You shouldn't worry about our marriage either," Blaine said quietly. "People have made it on a lot less than what we have. See Cinderella and Prince Charming, Snow White and Prince No-name," Kurt giggled, "and Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip."

"Do you have a thing for the Grimm Brothers? They were kind of violent, you know." When Blaine didn't reply, Kurt asked, "Does that make you my Prince Charming?"

"Of course. Oh, and I love you too, by the way. I never got the chance to say it back, because I was too busy being skeptical at first, and then taking advantage of the fact you weren't pushing me away by kissing the hell out of you." Kurt couldn't help but smile at hearing his husband say the words for the first time, and Blaine grinned against Kurt's chest.

"I love you too... too," Kurt said awkwardly before he realized Blaine's statement needed no reply. Thankfully, Blaine just chuckled. "This is crazy, you know?" Blaine pulled away from his spot snuggled into Kurt to give his husband a questioning glance. "Everything that's happened to us," Kurt explained. "What's the chance that we were married by computer mistake and no one has realized it by now?" Kurt wasn't angry about the error, couldn't be with the way it had turned out, but he _was_ curious.

"I guess we're just destined to beat the odds," Blaine replied, both answering Kurt's mostly rhetorical question and reassuring him about their earlier topic.

A yawn punctuated the end of Blaine's sentence, and Kurt hadn't even realized how late it was. He was flooded with energy and happiness and _love_ to the point that he wasn't the least bit tired. Blaine, though (hopefully) happy and relieved at the news that Kurt was insanely in love with him, had figured this out much earlier that Kurt himself had, and didn't have the same type of adrenaline.

"You should sleep," Kurt murmured, but Blaine shook his head, his curls tickling against the fashion critic's chin.

"You'll get bored,' Blaine tried to argue. Kurt could head the unsaid 'and leave me at the end'. Another huge yawn interrupted Blaine's speech, and the tycoon sighed, knowing there was no way Kurt would let him win this.

"Go to bed," Kurt whispered, pulling Blaine close again (as he'd pulled away to argue against sleeping. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Good," Blaine replied quietly, not having the energy to keep the conversation going. He was asleep within moments.

Kurt smiled as his husband went lax in his arms, clearly a heavy sleeper, able to fall asleep anywhere and _quickly_ at that, an ability that the fashion critic had always envied. Blaine looked more relaxed than Kurt had ever seen him, almost childlike in unconsciousness, and unbearably adorable.

How had he gotten so lucky? That's what Kurt was really curious about. An amazing man, one he never would have come in contact with if the marriage bureau hadn't erred, just fell into his lap. Well, it wasn't exactly that simple, but they'd managed, hadn't they? And he _couldn't be happier_. Kurt giggled a bit at the memory of his drunken Wicked rendition before falling into a contented sleep, husband in his arms.

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><p>Blaine woke once again to the smell of a wonderful breakfast cooked by Kurt. Reminding himself to tell Kurt that he didn't have to wake up at five every morning to make him breakfast (as much as he appreciated), rolling out of bed and realizing that the reason it seemed unusually warm in his apartment was because he'd slept in more clothes than usual.<p>

Smiling at the memories of the previous night, Blaine headed for the kitchen. "Good morning there, sunshine!" Kurt was still dressed in Sebastian's too-big clothes, his hair rumpled, but he still looked like the sexiest thing Blaine had ever seen.

"Good morning." Kurt turned from the grill (yum, bacon) with a big smile, walking very quickly across the cold tile floor to give Blaine a quick kiss. The whole routine (well, not that it was a routine yet, but Blaine certainly hoped it would be soon) felt so domestic.

"As wonderful as this is, you don't have to make breakfast every morning you spend here. Or get up at five in the freakin' morning either," Blaine said, secretly appreciating it.

"I've never _had_ to get up at five in the morning. I _choose_ to. It's relaxing, having some time to look out over the beautiful city with the newspaper and some coffee." The picture Kurt painted in Blaine's head did sound rather wonderful, especially with his husband by his side, and Blaine decided there and then to share some of those mornings with Kurt.

"So, what's on the docket for today, besides quitting your job." Blaine didn't have any objections to Kurt leaving Vanity Fair. The whole fashion industry bothered him, to be honest. Too many 100-pound, 5'10" models with fake breasts for his taste. Kurt's cutting and famous blog was more... wholesome.

"I have to get at least some of my stuff from Sam's. Clothes and the like. We'll figure out what we're doing with everything else later." Kurt didn't sound saddened by this at all, and Blaine smiled at his word choice.

"You look like the cat that got the proverbial cream," Kurt commented, raising an eyebrow at Blaine's almost comically large smile.

"You called your old apartment 'Sam's'. That means _this_ is your home now." That sounded absolutely wonderful to Blaine, and Kurt smiled right back, realizing that his mind has unconsciously shifted housing situations without his consent.

"I guess so." Kurt turned as the timer on the grill rang, and very soon Blaine had his pile of bacon in front of him, digging into it with gusto. "I don't suppose that means I can go through that giant pile of mail of yours? It's been bothering me all morning." Kurt frowned at the mile-high stack of letters Blaine had neglected over the past few weeks.

"Knock yourself out. I'm sure it will be very boring for you." All that was in that pile was bills, advertisements, and desperate pleas from washed-up companies that needed loans Blaine couldn't afford.

Kurt started sorting through letters and ripping some open as Blaine ate. The focus Kurt gave each individual letter was rather entertaining, and Blaine found himself watching as Kurt's eyes shifted from blue to green in the early morning lighting.

"You're staring at me," Kurt said teasingly. He didn't sound very bothered, so Blaine wasn't inclined to stop doing exactly that.

"You're beautiful, what do you expect?" Kurt blushed at that, and Blaine had to wonder exactly how many times Sam had told him those exact words. It couldn't be very many with the way Kurt flushed.

It seemed as if the air suddenly got ten degrees colder with the next letter Kurt picked up. The remnants of his blush seeped out of his face and a certain hardness entered his now blue-gray eyes. "Blaine, what is this?" Kurt sounded unreasonably angry, a dragon tensed to strike.

"What is _what_?" What could possibly be in his never-ending pile of mail that evoked such a reaction from his husband? Kurt got pissy, he got frustrated, he got insulted, but he rarely every got _angry_. He looked very, _very_ angry.

"This letter from the marriage bureau informing you of their computer error and sending you _error-fix_ _papers_!" Kurt asked, rage coloring his voice. There was a slight quiver to his.. well, entire body, and Blaine knew he was in deep trouble.

"Kurt, I've never seen that letter before in my life!" Blaine defended himself, hoping that hadn't been one of the letters he ripped and tore open in an angry rage when he'd first gotten the letter from Sebastian.

"It's _open_!" Kurt yelled. "This is dated the day before you met me! You _knew_! You knew that the marriage bureau had messed up and instead of trying to fix it you decided to _torture me_! This wasn't a _mistake_! This wasn't _unavoidable_! You did this on purpose to make my life a living hell! This was _premeditated_! You probably paid them off! How dare you pretend that this happened to both of us! I even _asked_ you about it last night and you _lied_ to me!" Kurt was on a rage, flushed red with anger and shaking.

"Kurt, no, listen, I didn't really open that, well, I didn't look at it!" Blaine hadn't finished his half-formed defense before the door slammed behind Kurt. "Why do I keep junk mail?" Blaine asked himself angrily as he put down his fork.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did you seriously think I was done torturing them? Psh. You're all too trusting. A little more to write at any rate. This inevitably brings up this question: do you want this story to get a little more... M-rated. I'm not a crazy good smut writer, but I'm not horrible either (or people lie to me to make me feel better. This is also possible). It's all up to you guys, so let me know. So, one more story chapter (I think), an epilogue to take care of loose ends, and possibly some smut. That's all that remains of this story.**

**Songs used briefly****: **_  
>'<em>_My Favorite Things'_ from _The Sound of Music_ **(this was too cute on the show. Best friends and holiday roommates. I had to)_._**  
><em>'Thank Goodness<em>_'_ from_ Wicked_ **(yes, again****).**

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Now you, my devoted readers, have gotten a little taste of my usual writer's block. I apologize. I hope this is a great ending to this fic, which had received such enthusiastic love from all of you.**

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><p>Kurt had managed to get twelve blocks away before Blaine caught up to him. If Blaine hadn't known where he was headed, he would have easily lost his husband in the crowds. He certainly was fast.<p>

"Kurt! Kurt, stop!" Blaine was half-running to catch up with his husband, dodging and pushing people out of the way (as every New Yorker had at one time or another), but he couldn't catch up with him. Kurt didn't even turn around. Muttering to himself about obstinate husbands who refused to listen, Blaine ducked in one of his least favorite alleys, sprinting out of the dark space until he had cut Kurt off, almost barreling right into the lithe man.

"Leave me alone." Kurt's voice wasn't loud or angry, it was quiet and deadly-sounding.

"Not until you hear me out." Blaine figured Kurt could see this semi-logically, even as angry as he was, because it was honestly not Blaine's fault. "Please, you have it all wrong." In hindsight, this was a horrible thing to say.

"I have it 'all wrong'? Have what 'all wrong'? Your morals? Your sense of integrity? Your honesty? Oh wait, I forgot you don't have any of the above." Kurt turned on his heel to walk away, but Blaine caught his arm.

"Please," was all he said, but Kurt's eyes softened. Minutely, but it was there.

"You have two minutes, and _don't_ touch me." Kurt pulled away his arm but stayed there, hands placed on his hips. Blaine took a deep breath, knowing the wrong thing could very well end the relationship they had going. Kurt started tapping his foot impatiently, and Blaine knew if he didn't start talking quickly than Kurt would either start counting down or withdraw from the conversation regardless of the remaining time.

"I love you," seemed to be a good way to start," and I'm sorry for everything that's happened between us." Blaine probably should have given a formal apology earlier, but, like they say, 'no time like the present.' Whoever 'they' were, they were idiots. "I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm sorry that I hurt Sam, but I can't be sorry that things turned out the way they did. I had never even looked at that letter, I just started opening and ripping apart junk mail in anger when I got that letter from Sebastian. There was some ranting involved." Blaine scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, a nervous habit. "Everything that happened was my fault, and I'll admit that, but I didn't start this. I _swear_ to you that I didn't start this."

"Why should I believe you?" Kurt asked immediately. "Why should I put my faith in the man that tore my life to shreds?"

"Because I've never lied to you." Kurt's face was both shocked and skeptical in reaction to Blaine's bold proclamation. "Yes, I teased you a little bit about us having a drunken one-night stand, but I've never seriously _lied_ to you, and I don't plan to start now."

"Why did you do it?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, silently asking for more information. "Why did you do all of this? Why didn't you just divorce me, continue chasing after Sebastian, and forget this ever happened?" Fair questions, but Blaine didn't really want to answer them, especially not in the middle of a crowded street. Kurt clearly wasn't moving, ignoring the way the crowd split around them in response to the rolling waves of hostility coming off of the lithe fashion critic.

"I... I wanted revenge. I know it isn't mature, I know it wasn't the right choice, but I wanted you to feel what I had felt. I wanted you to know what it's like to have your life ripped out from under you. I wanted to knock you, your presumably smug personality, and your mostly-successful business down a peg... or, I don't know. Five." Blaine admitted all of this in a hurried rush, but Kurt understood what he was saying.

"Well, you succeeded." There was no sufficient response to that, so Blaine just waited. "Whatever-is-up-there, why are you doing this to me?" Kurt asked melodramatically, slumping his shoulders and letting his hands fall from his hips. "I'm starting to call into question everything I thought my life should be, _would_ be. I thought I should marry a mild-tempered guy with a nice smile, not someone who could match me fire-for-fire. I thought I should become a fashion critic because that's what I spent most of my free time doing, maybe I should take all the fancy singing and acting techniques I learned at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts and go on Broadway. Who even knows?"

Blaine answered Kurt's load of rhetorical questions with a kiss, trying to convey what he was feeling without words. The fashion critic melted into his embrace, kissing him back with the same kind of passion, but Kurt looked a little confused when he pulled away. "Anything you decide to do right now, I will always love you, want to be with you, and be here for you. No matter what. Even if you decide to become the _second_ hobo that pisses in the fountain outside my office, I will be your devoted subject. If you become a pot-smoking hippy with an attitude problem who spends all day stealing bunnies from cosmetics companies trying to test products on them, I will clear the apartment of weed smoke every day and keep your rabbit cages hidden in my office." Kurt was laughing by the end of his overly-dramatic speech. Blaine overdid it to keep the mood light, but he meant every word.

"I love you," Kurt said finally, "and I'm ready to go home."

"I love you too," Blaine answered, taking Kurt's hand and releasing the lithe man from his embrace at the same time. Kurt and Blaine headed back the way they came, as if their little spat had never happened. "'My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!'" Blaine quoted with a grin. "How romantic." The tycoon rolled his eyes. Kurt just smiled in response, squeezing Blaine's hand.

"I didn't use to believe in happy endings, you know," Kurt offered. Blaine didn't reply, unsure of what to say. "I do now, even after everything that's happened. My dad told me on the phone a few days ago that when you're in love, you don't sweat the small stuff."

Blaine couldn't help but snort. "I don't think two heartbroken fiancé's, one now in Tokyo, two independent businesses, and almost losing a deal for Vanity Fair counts as the 'small stuff'." 'Small stuff' must have a broader definition in the Hummel clan.

"I do," Kurt said with a smile, and Blaine couldn't begrudge him that.

"So, when do I get to meet the Hummel clan?" Blaine asked, wondering if he should be excited or terrified.

"First I have to tell all of them that I called off not only the wedding for a second time, but also my engagement. Next, I have to tell them that we're married. Only then does my dad get to point a shotgun at you and try to frighten you to the point you urinate in your pants." Kurt's grin was wide and quite terrifying in it's own right.

* * *

><p>The twelve blocks Kurt had managed to run seemed a lot shorter, oddly, now that they were walking together. Before, Blaine had been so afraid that this was the end of a wonderful romance that time slowed, but 'time flies when you're having fun'.<p>

"You need a key to this place, don't you?" Blaine asked as they bypassed the doorman with a wave. Kurt had only ever knocked on Blaine's door three times, but that couldn't happen all the time now that he was living there.

"I do," Kurt said as if it had just occurred to him as well. Blaine called the elevator as they stood to the side of the lobby, still hand-in-hand. "If we're really serious about me moving in here."

"Of course we are. I thought we established that last night." Please, Lord, not this argument again. Kurt was one of those people that was so stubborn he would stick to his point no matter how wrong it had been proven.

"I just thought, after this morning..." Blaine just shook his head at his silly husband.

"This morning didn't mean a thing," Blaine promised, leaning forward (and, embarrassingly, up) to kiss his husband on the forehead. "Let's forget it ever happened." The elevator dinged right at that moment, and the two walked in.

"Agreed." The couple rose in silence until they reached the penthouse they would be living in. It was much nicer than Kurt's apartment, the fashion critic know, but he had never really realized how beautiful the place was until he was viewing it as 'home'.

Blaine grabbed a package from the entrance, not saying what was in it, but smiling to himself. Ripping open the package easily, Blaine pulled out a small velveteen box and immediately got down on one knee. Ignoring Kurt's confused look, Blaine turned the box towards himself to check inside, before turning it back towards Kurt.

"Kurt Hummel, will you marry me?" Blaine asked very seriously, and Kurt almost laughed... until he saw the ring in the box. It was _beautiful_, a silver band with a strip of onyx in the middle, accented by three diamonds, a larger one in the middle of the onyx, and a smaller one to each side.

"Already taken care of," Kurt said with a huge smile, trying to ignore the inkling of tears forming (it was his automatic reaction to being proposed to, he swore). Nevertheless, he let Blaine slip Sam's ring off of his finger and replace it with his own, putting Sam's carefully in the box.

Grabbing the other box from the package, Blaine slipped off the ring given to him by Sebastian and put it in his box, placing a matching ring on his finger. The only difference was there was only one central diamond on his ring, and it was smaller than Kurt's central diamond, but they were obviously a pair.

Blaine then took the two velveteen boxes and placed them side-by-side on the bookshelf in the living room. "Someday," he promised, "we'll tell our kids this story, and we can even show them the proof." Blaine turned back to Kurt with a smile.

"Sam might want that back, you know," Kurt said automatically, knowing Sam wouldn't. Inside, he was thinking 'kids?' with equal degrees of hope and fear, deciding it was a discussion to be had later.

"I doubt it," Blaine said with a snort. "By the way," he began slyly," is Kurt Anderson fine by you?" It was obvious that Blaine wanted them to share his last name, and Kurt had no arguments. As cute as Blaine Hummel sounded, there was a ring to Kurt Anderson that the fashion critic liked. Maybe it was just the nagging reminder that he had been prepared to take Sam's last name.

"Kurt Elizabeth Anderson... fine by me, Blay," Kurt said flirtily, looking at Blaine from under his eyelashes. Kurt had mistakenly called Blaine by the nickname he hated, but Blaine didn't even noticed, too focused on striding over to Kurt to kiss the hell out of him.

"God, you're gorgeous," Blaine whispered as he mouthed along Kurt's jaw.

"B-bedroom," Kurt stuttered out, more than ready to.. consummate with his husband. Blaine didn't reply, preferring to pull Kurt close, hands on his ass, and lead them in a clumsy walk towards his king-size bed, never disconnecting their lips.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until (late) the next day that Kurt made his way to Sam's apartment to get his stuff. He couldn't say he was surprised to see the 'For Lease' sign in front of the building, but Sam had certainly been fast about it. Kurt walked up the familiar steps, avoiding the creak in the third one that always gave him a headache, and headed into the building.<p>

This was _his_ lobby, the one he'd walked into so many times. The lobby where Sam had held him when he'd gotten the call about his father's second heart attack, the lobby where Sam had accidentally proposed once, and then thought it was so funny he _really_ proposed there a few days later, the lobby where he'd first met Charlie. Things would never be the same.

Kurt took the stairs, running his hand over the polished wood banister. He had never spent much time on these stairs, preferring to get his exercise in bursts and usually taking the elevator, but he regretted not spending the time to himself. All his thoughts seemed louder in the open space below the skylight.

The fashion critic wasn't nervous until he reached the fourth floor. He'd been to almost every apartment on the fourth floor for various reasons, even made an entire round when they'd first moved in. The apartment he was the most worried about seeing was his own.

What was appropriate when entering a home that used to be yours and now is no one's? Should he knock? Should he just open the door? He had a key, after all. Kurt would hover awkwardly by the door in the hopes that a movie-perfect moment would finally occur for him, but he knew it wasn't likely Sam was even awake yet. Thus, opening the door was his only option.

Kurt shut the door behind him, and turned to find Sam sitting at the table, eating breakfast calmly. "Good morning," the mechanic greeted his once-fiancé politely. That moment, standing in his old apartment, key in hand, while Sam calmly watched him, sitting in _their_ kitchen, in McKinley High pajamas, was the most awkward time so far in his life, and probably (hopefully) would be when he died.

"Hi. I just came to..." Kurt wasn't sure how to put this delicately.

"Pick up your stuff, like we agreed." Sam seemed a little amused, though Kurt couldn't imagine why. "Moving in so soon?"

"We decided it would be best. You certainly seem in a hurry to move out." Kurt winced once he realized how rude that sounded.

"Actually, I was kind of counting on the idea that you would be moving in with Blaine soon." Sam didn't seem offended at all. He still seemed entertained.

"Well, that was rather presumptuous of you." Kurt winced again as he automatically snapped at Sam. Sam actually _laughed_ at that one.

"Kurt, you need to calm down. Relax. I'm still me, I'm not upset with you, and this is still your _home_. You have as much of a right to be here as I do. I know the retorts are your defense system. I know _you_. I know you fall easy and fall fast, and you're completely head-over-heels in love with Blaine. It's all right." Everything that came out of the mechanic's mouth was completely one hundred percent _Sam_, and Kurt felt oddly homesick. He had missed the mechanic's easy-going demeanor.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized. "I guess I was a little bit.. unsure of how things would be between us, now that I'm with Blaine." Sam shrugged.

"I told you I don't begrudge you the man you deserve. Like I said, if he makes you happy, then I'm happy." There wasn't a note of melancholy or jealousy in Sam's tone, reminding Kurt how purely selfless his once fiancé was. "Nice ring."

Kurt looked down at his finger, knowing his expression was probably guilty. He had forgotten he was wearing the ring Blaine had given him. "Oh, thank you. I, um, I have yours, if you would like it back." Sam shook his head, as Kurt had suspected he would.

"Keep it. It's yours." The two stood in awkward silence for a moment, their very friendly air ruined by a tense topic.

"I'll start packing, I suppose." Sam didn't respond, returning to his breakfast, so Kurt headed for their old bedroom, mentally cursing the amount of personal belonging he had in there. He didn't want to carry all his boxes out himself, but considering his husband was at work and it wasn't likely Sam would be helping him move out, he resigned himself to some heavy-lifting and then a nice massage later. Possibly from Blaine.

Kurt could hear Sam walking around, putting away his dishes, and turning on the TV as he packed. Realistically, this wouldn't be a one-day process, but Kurt was very organized, and it wasn't as if it were his teenage wardrobe. Yes, all his clothes were designer, but it was an apartment, there was limited space.

It had probably been a few hours when Kurt finished packing his things. One good thing about having a fiancé with different tastes in movie and music was that not many of their things were a gray area, and those that were Kurt left. He didn't feel like splitting hairs over a few CDs.

Kurt groaned (it was intended to be mentally, but it was audible before he knew it) when he realized how many boxes he had to carry. Blaine had lent him his SUV (Kurt hadn't even been aware that he had a car) to bring things back, but he still had to load them. Plus, he hadn't taken into account how heavy the boxes would be whilst packing them.

"Need some help?" Sam offered quietly from the door, and Kurt nodded. Between them, they managed to get all of Kurt's boxes out (Kurt knew Sam was taking all of the heavier ones, but he couldn't bring himself to protest. Sam had always treated him as if he were fragile) to the SUV in about half an hour. Sam had given quite a loud whistle (which Kurt had taught him) when he saw the car, but the mechanic didn't comment.

"I suppose that's it," Kurt said when they were both back in the apartment. Kurt picked up his Vivienne Westwood coat and put it on while Sam hovered awkwardly. "It was nice seeing you Sam," the fashion critic said politely.

"Nice seeing you too. Don't be a stranger." Sam's smile was a little forced, and Kurt knew that as nonchalant as Sam was being, they would both need some time. If this had been normal, friendly circumstances, they would have hugged, but as it was, they both nodded at each other, and Kurt headed for the door, leaving his key on the counter.

Just before Kurt left, he turned to face the mechanic. "Sam?" The mechanic turned to face him with a questioning expression. "I know you're being very.. charitable about Blaine and I, but you deserve someone who makes you happy as well. Just, promise me you won't close yourself off." Without waiting for an answer, Kurt left their apartment for the last time.

* * *

><p>It had been two weeks, and Sam couldn't stop thinking about the last time he had seen Kurt, and the last thing the fashion critic had said to him. No, he wasn't hung up on his old fiancé. He had never seen two people as happy as Kurt and Blaine. Sam had run into the two of them at a restaurant both he and Kurt liked, but they had been far enough away, no conversation was necessary. The mechanic could see how in love the two of them were though, even from a distance.<p>

Now Sam was sitting at a bar Kurt liked and wishing to his lucky stars (if he had any) that Kurt and Blaine weren't about to walk in and start having sex on the middle of the dance floor or anything. That would be just his luck, considering the weeks he'd had.

First, he lost his fiancé. He wasn't obsessed with Kurt or trying to win him back, but yes, he still had feelings for the lithe fashion critic, and yes, losing him had hurt. Next, he'd sold the apartment with ease, but had trouble finding a bachelor pad. Then he'd had a falling out with his family, and now he really needed some good Scotch.

"You here alone?" The man that approached him was attractive, he would admit, with dark hair, almost black, and bright green eyes. He was shorter than Sam, probably about 5'6", and the smile on his full mouth was pleasant. The lines of his face were gentler, making him look younger than Sam would guess he was (which was about 24 or 25).

"Yes, and I would like to leave the same way." Sam knew he was being rude (the words out of his mouth sounded rather like something Kurt would say, but he wouldn't dwell on that).

"Well, as luck would have it, I feel the same way. This seat open?" Sam nodded, and the man sat on the bar stool next to him. "The name's Aiden, by the way. Aiden Hilty."

"Sam Evans," Sam replied. As long as this wasn't another guy trying to hit on him (there had been a few girls in the mix too), he was fine with some polite conversation.

"So, is there a reason a guy like you is so... anti-social?" Aiden asked calmly as he waved over the bartender. Sam would guess (not trying to sound conceited) that 'like you' meant fairly young and attractive.

"My fiancé just left me a few weeks ago," Sam said honestly, half-hoping it would scare this man off.

"Ouch, I'm sorry. Musta been a pretty stupid man to leave a guy like you." Now Sam wasn't entirely sure what 'like you' meant. Aiden ordered a Scotch, like Sam had.

"No, he made the right choice. He's completely head-over-heels in love with his new husband." Aiden choked on his drink, and Sam wondered what he'd said.

"Husband? Didn't ya say it had only been a few weeks?" Oh, that. It didn't seem so odd to Sam because he knew what had happened, he forgot how it would sound to the rest of the world.

"It's kind of a long story," Sam avoided. He didn't particularly want to rehash everything that had happened with Kurt and Blaine. Seeing them was bad enough, he didn't really need to think about them too.

"Well, it's only ten o'clock, and I'm here at least until midnight. Think that's enough time for ya?" Aiden asked. Sam shrugged, knowing it would be. "Ah, I get it. You don't wanna talk about it. That's fine. Musta hurt." There was some backwoods accent to Aiden's speech, but Sam couldn't quite name it.

"Yeah. This is going to sound a little odd, but where are you from?" Sam was more than curious about the accent.

"Maine, the land of lobsters and trees. Not much else up there." Aiden sounded as if he were more than happy to have left this state. "So, I came down here. There's _plenty_ down here."

"What do you do for a living?" There was no harm in getting to know the guy, right? It's not like Sam was going to jump right back into dating, but Aiden was interesting and nice, and seemed interested.

"Ah, so we're gonna play 20 questions. All right. I'm a solar energy consultant down at Société de la Vie." Sam snorted. Of course.

"What does that company even do?" Sam muttered under his breath. Naturally, he found the one man in the bar that works for his ex's husband.

"What?" Aiden asked, obviously confused by Sam's reaction.

"I asked what that company does. I've... heard of it, but I don't actually know what it is." 'Heard of it' was a little bit of an understatement, but telling Aiden that he knew the owner would involve telling him at least part of the story.

"It does everything, really. There's a branch in almost every profession, and it buys out companies all the time, letting them keep their names but running them from the inside. The man that owns it is _incredibly_ rich." Aiden sounded bored talking about his work.

"Well, that I knew," Sam said before he could stop himself.

"You know Mr. Anderson?" Aiden asked, and hearing anyone call Blaine 'Mr. Anderson' was almost laughable, considering he'd almost beat the man up once in a bathroom.

"On a first-name basis, as a matter of fact. Blaine is my ex-fiancé's new husband." Aiden whistled.

"You were engaged to Kurt Hummel. I see." The conversation fell into a little bit of an uncomfortable silence as Sam ordered another drink with a wave of his hand. "So now that I've made everything awkward, what do _you _do for a living?"

"I'm a partner at Carlton Garages." Aiden whistled at that too. "Yeah, Blaine got me that job."

"Well, this will never be less awkward, will it?" Aiden said, sounding pretty amused but probably not laughing out of courtesy.

"Probably not. I'm sorry, it's just been a bad few weeks, and I'm in no mood for the little back-and-forth." Sam had figured out that Aiden intended this to lead somewhere. Aiden was turned towards him, leaning on the bar, not ordering anymore drinks, and had been looking up at Sam through his (incredibly long) lashes before Blaine was mentioned.

"That's understandable. I'm sorry I'm kinda making a move on you," Aiden admitted sheepishly. "You're just kind of insanely hot. So, if you ever _are_ in the mood for this little back-and-forth, or more, here's my number." Aiden slid a card over to Sam and got up.

* * *

><p>It would be three weeks before Sam called that number and went to coffee with Aiden. The day after would be the first time he had talked to Kurt since that day in their old apartment.<p>

It would be a month before Sam explained everything that had happened with Kurt and Blaine, and Aiden held him as he finally let his emotions out.

It would be two months before Sam would admit to anyone they were dating. The first person he would tell was Kurt, at a Hudmel family gathering Sam and Aiden were invited to.

It would be a year and a half before Aiden was the one who grew some balls and asked Sam to marry him. Kurt was the obnoxious friend that screamed into the phone and rushed downtown to hug both of them when he found out.

It would be four years before Kurt was Sam's best man at his and Aiden's wedding. Sam would be the 'best man' when Kurt and Blaine renewed the vows they had never gotten to do the first time a few months later.

It would be eight years before Sam and Aiden adopted little Brandon, living in a Victorian on Long Island. Brandon would be just the right age to play with Blaine and Kurt's second little one, Annabeth, and just a few years younger than their little Jake.

For now, Sam tucked Aiden's number in his coat pocket and finished his Scotch, knowing that there was something between them that he'd never really felt before. Chemistry.

* * *

><p>"Anata wa, nani o baka yatte iru no? Anata wa bu no kaigi o motte iru!" Sebastian's assistant, whose name he couldn't pronounce, yelled at him. Sebastian had no idea what he was saying, even after three weeks at the office.<p>

Things weren't going well for Sebastian. He had discovered that Ivor was in a lower position at his company and had been using him to get a promotion. So that relationship had tanked. His bosses were annoyed that he hadn't picked up Japanese yet. He was having trouble finding a place to live because he couldn't communicate with anyone, so he was living about an American restaurant, with the only people in the entire city that could understand him.

Tokyo was the Japanese version of New York City, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel homesick looking out his window at Times Square, Japan version. He missed everything about his old life, especially his Blaine.

A picture of Blaine and him in Times Square had replaced the picture he'd had of him and Ivor on his desk, and every time he looked at it he felt miserable. The day before Blaine had answered his letter, telling him a crazy story of what had happened after he'd tried to marry them illegally. Blaine was married, in love, and happier than ever. He'd messed up his entire life, and he had no way to fix it.

He was going to get fired because he couldn't pick up the language.

He didn't have a boyfriend and had no way of meeting anyone.

He had to live above a smelly restaurant in the bad area of town.

He missed New York City.

Fuck. His. Life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, I included Sebastian in the epilogue part. I just kind of wanted to watch his life fall apart. The Japanese was Google Translate phonetic for 'What are you doing, you idiot? You have a meeting in four minutes!'**** As you see, Sam got the happy ending I promised him.** **I hope you guys enjoyed!**

**BROADCAST LOVE ACROSS ALL REVIEWS.**


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